


Hell and Silence

by Ludicrous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester in Hell, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 04, Tortured Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 24,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludicrous/pseuds/Ludicrous
Summary: "What were you dreaming about, Dean?"The dream is on the edge of Dean's mind, already becoming blurry. He doesn't answer.It was a nightmare about Hell.He remembers flashes of color; splashes of blue light and a bright white that had blinded him. He remembers the sharpness of the blade in his hand, the lightness of feathers against his back, the burning sensation of a hand pulling and pulling and pulling...It was about Hell, Dean almost blurts. It was about us.But the words stay stuck in his throat, the memories stay stuck in the back of his mind.He stares at Castiel in silence, before changing the subject.





	1. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is told from Dean's POV, but the rest of the story will be Castiel-centered.
> 
> I hope you like it !

"New job for you, kiddo."

He recognises Alastair's voice. He never forgets this name. He keeps losing thoughts and memories, but he remembers the demon's name like Alastair graved it in his mind with the fire of Hell itself.

He lowers the whip and ignores the whimper from the soul under him. They always make a lot of noise. They never say much besides simply breathing 'please', but they whimper and cry the rest of the time. Their pleas used to bother him, Before. They don't anymore.

"They've caught an angel wandering on our borders. We have to know why he was there. You'll just have to scratch his wings with that whip of yours, kiddo."

He would've snorted if he remembered how to do so. Instead, his mouth contorts in an almost-smile that looks more like a snarl.

"Angels?" He croaks. "Angels don't exist."

He repeats it, just to be sure. It was something important, Before.  
He remembers someone telling him otherwise, a long time ago. A child's belief, long lost. But this is all part of Before.  
He doesn't want to think about that.

"It doesn't matter what you believe in, kiddo." Alastair's voice is sharp.

Demons never say his name. They all have their own special name for him, but somehow he knows it's not the right one. His right name is always nagging at him, at the edge of his mind but never close enough for him to remember it properly.

Alastair is still talking : "You just have to do these little tricks of yours that make them spill their darkest secrets." Alastair makes a pause. "I wonder if angels have red or white blood. Be sure to tell me."

If he had bothered to look behind the curtain of old gargoyle faces in front of him, he would've seen an amused smile and silvery grey eyes. But he doesn't care much. He'd rather look at the dark shadows taking all the spaces available around them. 

Silence stretches and when he looks up he doesn't see any demon around. Alastair is gone.

He can only lower the whip twice before the demon is back. He's carrying another soul, something so bright it's blinding.

An angel's soul.

It doesn't matter. He will shatter it as easily as the human ones. All he needs is a little time.

He lets the broken soul beneath him scramble to its feet and run away. He'll come back to it later.

He peers at the light. It's a color he hasn't seen, not for a while, and he can't remember the name for it. It makes him think of Before. He stops immediately.

He lowers the whip against the soul, almost gently. If he stares hard enough, he can see limbs. But there are too many of them to make sense.

The soul shudders at the contact, but doesn't do anything else. It doesn't look at him like the others do.

Alastair comes and goes. Metal falls in a clatter against the dark shadows that make up his world. Then he can feel Alastair tying up the angel.

"Why are you here?" He hears his own voice ask.

The soul rolls around. If he could peer past the light, he would see its face.

A tremor passes through the soul stretched out on the floor. The light is dimmed for a moment, long enough to let through the light of two bright blue eyes.

That's when he remembers the word for the color around the angel's soul.

He decides that he doesn't like blue. It reminds him too much of Before. He closes his eyes, like a kid afraid of the black of the dark. Except that he's a grown man afraid of the light.

After a few seconds, he starts looking around frantically. His prisoner could have escaped a thousand times already. 

But the soul is still at the same place. The blue light is trembling. If it's out of fear, that's good.

He chooses the next knife carefully. It's a new one. When he passes it on the blue light, the first scream escapes the angel's throat.

There are many more to come.


	2. Chapter One - Wings

Castiel is watching the Heaven of two soulmates remembering their best memories for the first time when he feels Zachariah starting to Talk to him.

"Congratulations, Castiel !" Zachariah's voice is too loud in Castiel's head. "You're being promoted !"

Castiel frowns. He doesn't deserve this promotion. He hasn't been part of a battle since the Trojan War. And even then, Uriel had been the one to come up with the idea of a fake gift. It's only logical that Uriel would lead his garrison.

"The Word is that you are chosen to go to Hell. You'll prove yourself worthy by bringing back the Righteous Man from the dead."

Castiel can feel his grace pulsing in surprise. His Father has a plan for him?  
For centuries, the Voice of God has been singing about Dean Winchester. During the Holy Celebrations, Castiel and his brothers have been chanting about the Righteous Man. But Castiel never thought he'd be the One to save Him.

After a few seconds of shock, Castiel finally flattens his wings. Waiting any longer would have been impudence.

"I accept."

Castiel knows that Zachariah heard him, but the other angel doesn't sever their telepathic link. As much as Castiel is honored to be trusted with this duty, he'd rather end this conversation soon. He hates feeling Zachariah listening in on his private thoughts.

"Fly with me, Castiel."

Castiel obeys immediately, expanding his wings. He starts to fly over the Suez Canal. A few moments later, he feels Zachariah's left wing flapping next to the tip of his feathers. The wind is blowing on them, but they don't feel it. They don't need vessels today ; the clouds mask their true forms.

Castiel lets Zachariah talk about dimmed grace and traps, but he's not really paying attention. He's busy peering through the sea of clouds. He can make out the outlines of the lands, but he can't see the humans living there.

Castiel has spent a lot of time standing on those clouds, at the edge of Heaven. He likes to watch the cities on Earth. They light up during the night, and it looks like a reflection of the stars.

If Castiel wants to succeed in his mission, he will have to take a human vessel. To enter the gates of Hell without an ounce of humanity would be a foolish death.

Castiel tries to tamper his excitement at the thought of gaining humanity, but Zachariah feels it anyway.

"Observe the souls there, Castiel." Zachariah's voice accentuates the last syllable of his name. It unnerves Castiel for an unknown reason. "You'll see there's no-one worth saving. Not one soul which isn't dimmed and destroyed from the inside."

They're slowing now. Castiel stops at the edge of their world. Behind them, an old man is flying a kite.

Castiel is avoiding Zachariah's gaze. He doesn't like hearing that humanity isn't worth saving. He has always admired the human race. That's what sets him apart from his brothers.

But if Castiel succeeds in bringing the Righteous Man back from the dead, he could forget about these differences. He could become an actual angel of the Lord.


	3. Chapter Two - Human

Jimmy Novak was found by Zachariah. He was a devout man, and his soul was definitely human. He would do.

Castiel flies to Earth with Zachariah's last warning echoing in his head.

_Ignore the demons, Castiel. They are brutal and they will manipulate you._

Still, Castiel is not afraid. He trusts his abilities and his strength. He knows how Hell is organized. He's capable of doing this duty.

When Castiel gets to his future vessel, Jimmy is on his doorstep. He's already ready.

He's one of the few who could understand Castiel if he used his real voice, but he doesn't want to draw attention to them.

He floats above Jimmy, dimming the light of his grace. Jimmy is squinting up at him. There is no fear in his eyes.

"Castiel? What do you need from me?"

Castiel speaks quietly in his mind.  
_I need to use your body as a vessel._

Jimmy nods. He doesn't seem surprised. Zachariah must have explained it all beforehand.

"I understand." His voice isn't quavering. It is strong.

Castiel approaches the human, waiting for him to say 'yes'.  
But then, Jimmy's forehad creases.

"As long as my family is safe and sound, you'll have my word."

_I will do them no harm._

Jimmy's shoulders relax. He nods, once, twice.

"Then, yes."

From one second to the next, Castiel is inside Jimmy's body. It feels confining, but he could get used to it.

He looks at Jimmy's - his - hands. They flex when he asks them to.

He can feel every atom of this vessel. His heart is beating, blood is flooding through veins, a hamburger is being torn apart by the acidic fluids in _his_ stomach.

\- Castiel discovers this body like a fledgling; it's been a long time since he last took a vessel. 

But he has no time; the Righteous Man is being tortured right now, in Hell.

Castiel flies to one of the Devil's gates, considers it. It was made by demons, that much is certain.

If Castiel enters through this door, he will be killed instantly. He needs to create a breach, somewhere near.

Castiel flies for a few miles in a straight line before dropping his new body to the ground. He feels Jimmy flinch inside of him. When he looks down, he sees blood on his pants. 

He had forgotten how fragile humans were. With a swift movement of his hand, his broken bones mend themselves.

Castiel looks at his surroundings. He's kneeling in the middle of a forest reeking of sulfur. There is nothing around for miles. This is the perfect place.

Castiel uses his hands to scrape the earth lightly. His grace deepens the hole he created, until it becomes a tunnel leading directly to Hell.

Castiel flaps his wings once before making them disappear inside his grace, inside his vessel. He needs to look like Jimmy if he wants to survive this.

Anything angelic would be burned instantly.

Castiel can sense Jimmy shifting somewhere inside their shared body, but he doesn't listen to him. Entering Hell must be a terrifying fate for a devout human.

Castiel doesn't care about demons. He's not afraid. - He pushes that determination over to Jimmy. Then he jumps.

***

Castiel and Jimmy are falling. The angel is enjoying the air blowing on his face, but Jimmy is absolutely terrified.

His soul is like a scared animal trapped, scraping and hurling in oder to get out. It's so surprising that Castiel loses control for a few moments. He's still inside his vessel, but as they fall together, Castiel cannot see anything.

Jimmy is seeing for them both, but his sight is really poor and Castiel can only make out a blurry image.  
Jimmy has control of their limbs, making them move in all directions. Rocks scratch their hands, making them bloody.

When Jimmy sees his injuries, he screams. Castiel can't let him scream out loud, so he traps Jimmy's shouts inside their head instead.

Then, all of a sudden, everything stops. The fall, the screams. Jimmy stills, and Castiel takes control again. He is shaken, and his grace is scratched in several places, where Jimmy applied pressure in order to flee.

While they stay in Hell, he can't tend to his wounds like he wants to. They will heal quicker than on an ordinary human, but Castiel cannot do much more. 

After a moment of silence, Castiel sends a message Jimmy's way.

_You should not be afraid. Demons cannot injure you. I will protect you._

_I don't want to meet... one of them. I don't deserve to be here._  
Jimmy's voice is one of a child, soft and small.

Castiel remembers seeing the Heaven of a small child, once. It was full of memories of his mother telling him stories and soft words of reassurance.

 _You don't have to. I can... put you to sleep, if that is your wish._

Castiel had kept his voice gentle. He didn't know he would have to calm his vessel. He had always considered them like bodies offered to the soldiers of God. He had never thouht of the mind left inside said body.

_Will you... Will you wake me up, when this nightmare is over?_

Castiel doesn't hesistate in his answer.  
_Yes._

Jimmy shifts, and Castiel feels Jimmy's mind brush against his grace. He can sense his fear, but it's tampered by his hope and his faith.

_Ok. Do it._

Castiel closes their eyes and searches for a particular place at the back of their head. It's a hidden place, where nothing could get to Jimmy. Unless Castiel dies, Jimmy shouldn't feel anything.

Silently, Castiel moves their lips and recite the words in Enochian.

'Rest, O Human, For An Angel Of The Lord Is Now Watching Over You.  
Rest In Peace, Retreat To The Safety Of Your Own Mind, For An Angel Is Using Your Body.  
O Human, You Shall Sleep Deeply, For The Grace Of Your Protector Will Surround You.  
Rest, Rest In Peace Now.'

Silence falls upon their head. Castiel senses his grace shifting within the body. He's used to the constant Word of God, the multiple conversations and the songs exchanged between his brothers. His head feels too empty now.

Castiel opens his eyes. It feels as though Jimmy is gone, if he doesn't poke where Jimmy is sleeping, unharmed.

In a few seconds, Castiel gathers his thoughts. He knows where he is, and where he needs to be. He cannot use his wings, and so he walks.

Soon, other shadows surround him. Human souls are clinging to his soul, to his brightness. Castiel dims it, but it's too late.

A soul makes him turn around. He looks into her huge eyes, and sees fear and pain there. Her soul has been torn to shreds, tortured into a mockery of a soul.

Castiel stares at her without moving. He remembers how Zachariah warned him. But Zachariah was wrong. Their souls aren't destroyed from the inside. They were tortured. 

Castiel places his palm against her cheek. She shudders.

"Will you help me?" Her voice is broken, just a murmur escaping from dried lips.

Castiel stays, frozen, in front of her. His lips move, but it has been such a long time since he last took a human vessel. He doesn't remember how to control his voice.

Another soul touches him. It's a little girl with brown eyes and a tender soul. The latter is completely destroyed.

"Will you help me?" Her little voice sounds wrecked.

Soon, Castiel cannot move, even if he wanted to. Hundreds of souls are around him, asking, again and again, in a horrible echo.

"Will you help me?"

"What about me? Will you help me?"

"Help me"

"Help me"

"Please help me..."

Castiel doesn't know what to do. For the first time in his long life, he feels helpless. He cannot help all these innocent people, but he cannot leave them without hurting them or flying - and that would attract demons.

Struggling, Castiel takes a step forward, pushing the souls to move.

He manages to take two steps like that. That's when the demons find him.


	4. Chapter Three - Pain

Instantly, the old woman in front of him stretches her lips in a hideous smile, and her soul glows with a harsh yellow light.

Castiel finally realizes that these souls aren't just wandering on the borders. They are guarding them.

The crowd gathered around Castiel scatters away, leaving Castiel alone with his opponents.

There are two of them. Maybe Castiel could defeat them. He still has his angel blade, hidden in his grace.

Demons don't need to use vessels in here, but they do anyway. They must love corrupting these fragile vessels too much.

The woman moves first. In a second she's less than a foot away from Castiel. The angel is so close to her he can see all the details of the distorted faces forming her true form, constantly fading and reforming.

Something vividly white is placed atop these faces. If Castiel had been human, he wouldn't have seen anything past the blinding light.

As it is, he can make out perfectly the crown of thorns resting above the head of the ten-year-old vessel this demon chose.

Castiel's new eyes widen. This isn't any demon. This is Lilith, Queen of Hell. - With a flicker of her hand, she could have him beheaded.

As soon as Lilith sees the glint of recognition in Castiel's eyes, a vile smile deform her vessel's delicate features.

"Well, well, isn't this a  _surprise_."

Castiel sends a quiet prayer to his Father, hoping that He will receive it from this far away. Then he faces Lilith fully, and braces himself for the impact of her wrath.

But that only earns him a laugh.

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not going to kill you. I want to... what's the phrase?  _have fun_ first."

She motions for the other demon to seize Castiel. Castiel doesn't move, doesn't try to defend himself. Where would he run off to?

With a flurry of light, Lilith disappears.

The other demon approaches Castiel without fear. But Castiel isn't going to be caught without fighting. With a flap of his wings, he sends his opponent to the floor.

He only has time to stretch his hand, waiting for his blade to fall into it, before the demon collides into him. Castiel is pinned to the floor, unable to fly away from here.

His enemy places a white collar around the neck of Castiel's vessel, and disappears in another rush of light.

\- Castiel stands up and conceals his wings once again inside his grace. The sheer effort leaves him shaking. He stumbles, falls on his knees and closes his eyes. 

He failed. Zachariah is going to search for him, but they will never find him. He will be hidden in some dark corner, driven to insanity or death by torture.

A freezing hand falls on his shoulder. The contact is everything but comforting. Castiel shivers.

Behind his closed eyelids, there is a whirl of movement and colors. But Castiel doesn't care much about where they have taken him. Nothing is of import now. He will never find the Righteous Man, and he will die here.

Castiel lies on his stomach. He can smell dirt and blood. Nothing else. But his nostrils keep moving spasmodically, because as desperate as his situation is, he's still taken aback by the way humans feel the world around them.

Castiel is so focused on his sense of smell that he doesn't hear the footsteps approaching. The first blow catches him unprepared, and his grace shudders. The whip has deepened the scratches Jimmy had given him earlier.

Some demon encircles his wrists with bounds made with some new kind of holy oil. It burns his arms in a way he can't fix, and it weakens his grace.

No matter how much everything hurts, Castiel stands stock-still. He doesn't dim his grace, nor does he turn around to face his torturers. He's stronger than that.

A strange voice then addresses him. It is deep and rough, and inexplicably human. Castiel doesn't listen to the words, only to the voice.

It's enough to make Castiel turn around, even though he knows that curiosity is a sin.

Standing above him is the last man Castiel was expecting. His soul is bright, brighter than the others. It's not of a pure white, more of a pale purple. The aura of a leader, of a king.

Dean Winchester is staring back at him. Castiel would have wept with the relief of having found him, if the Righteous Man wasn't the one holding the whip.

Castiel's grace shakes within his vessel. It wants to be out, to surround the Righteous Man with warmth and to take him out of Hell,  _right now_.

But Castiel does no such thing. He has bounds and injuries, and he can't help Dean as long as demons can overhear them.

Maybe he could Talk with Dean. Another shiver passes through Castiel as he entertains the idea of sensing Dean's mind. It must be so bright, yet so full of the memories of Hell. A dichotomy. Castiel heard that the human race is rather fond of those.

Dean seems suddenly frightened. Castiel hadn't noticed that his jailer had closed his eyes. It doesn't matter. Castiel can't escape now. He has no other place to be but here.

Dean drops the whip and slowly picks up his next weapon. Castiel jolts when the light of his grace reflects on the angel blade.

The whip could barely hurt his grace, and only because Castiel was already injured. But this blade could do terrible damage.

Dean doesn't waste any time. He stabs Castiel, and the blade is so sharp it gets to Castiel's chest. The cut is deep and could have been fatal on a human. As it is, all it does is elicit a scream from Castiel's mouth.

It is the first human sound he makes, and his throat is raw afterwards. But Castiel won't notice this until far, far later. Right now, the only thought in his head is the blade still scraping his grace and his vessel.

The cold metal dips into the flesh, and each time it comes out a fresh river of blood widens the puddle already surrounding Castiel. Inside his body, his grace twitches and launches itself against his ribcage, in a desperate attempt to escape.

After a while, his torturer gets bored of stabbing him. He leaves the blade inside Castiel's leg. Castiel can feel the cells trying to mend themselves, failing because of the blade, then trying again. Castiel can't order his grace to stop trying to heal this wound, all he can do is grit his teeth and wait for the next blow.

At Dean's feet are a pile of weapons that Castiel can't see anymore. His arms are too weak for him to prop himself up on his elbows.

"Why are you here?" These are the only words Dean has given him; Castiel never answers. He can't betray his brothers.

With a sigh, Dean utters a few words. Suddenly, Castiel's wings spring up into existence, falling heavily on the floor. His blade also leaves his grace and rolls out of Castiel's sleeve.

Dean picks up the blade and pockets it before staring openly at Castiel's wings.

Each feather is an intricate combination of blue, purple and black. Castiel only has two wings, but with this pattern, he could be promoted easily.

The torture has stopped for now. Castiel still feels pain in his limbs, in his chest and his wings, but he's able to think.

Dean seems cruel, but his soul is still soft and beautiful. If Castiel can get him to listen, maybe Dean will be saved.

"I'm an angel of the Lord. My name is Castiel, angel of Thursday. I'm part of -"

Castiel's sentence turns into a scream as his left wing starts burning. The flames are consuming everything, feather by feather. Acute pain twinges along Castiel's spine, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. Castiel's entire body shakes and during a second Castiel feels completely human.

Then the pain increases, Castiel sees only flashes of red and yellow before everything grows dark. 


	5. Chapter Four - Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : this chapter might be difficult to read. If you don't want to know about Castiel's pain, you should scroll down a bit until you find a Song Written Like That.

The first thing that wakes up is his pain. For some blissful seconds, there are only a few needles pressing against his skin... Then it grows without warning. A scream is ripped from his throat.

Castiel nearly collapses and loses all consciousness again. But he's an Angel of the Lord. Even half dead, he could be useful to these demons. 

He struggles to open his eyes. They don't feel foreign anymore. Castiel is pinned inside this body. His grace has melted at the edges, and now Castiel can't tell where it ends and where the skin and the organs begin.

Around him everything is utterly black. Castiel is too weak to use his grace as light, or even as a soft glow around him. Blackness will have to do.

The shadows move around him,but Castiel can't discern any definite shape. There is no Dean, and no demons. Maybe Castiel has lost his mind, and now he's creating Dean and this whole story. Apart from the pain that pulses in every inch of his body, nothing proves his memories correct.

If Castiel is losing his mind, he has to remind himself of what he knows. He can't afford to forget his memories. His brothers aren't here to help him remember.

At first, his True Voice can't go through his raw throat. It stucks and Castiel coughs loudly.

After a few tries, Castiel manages to speak. His voice is low and raspy, not at all like Jimmy's. This never happened with his previous vessels. Then again, he never went to Hell with one before.

"I am an Angel of the Lord. I fight under the orders of my brother, Uriel. I swore my allegiance to my superior, Zachariah. I served Zachariah millenias ago. I took a vessel and fought amongside humans. I'm not human, I just feel like one. I'm an Angel of the Lord. I'm in Hell to rescue the Righteous Man. His name is Dean Winchester. I... I'm not sure of where he is. I have to find him and save him. That is my duty. I'm an Angel of the Lord..."

Castiel repeats the same words again and again. He tastes them until his throat is burning and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. 

After a long time, Castiel isn't sure how long, his mouth refuses to form any more words. His lips are bleeding - Castiel must have reopened a cut - and his throat hurts as well; his human voice gives out.

Castiel realizes that he's shivering. Great shudders courses from his fingertips to the tips of his wings - wings that shouldn't have appeared.

Castiel tries to move his wings, but nothing happens. They lay motionless at his sides, even after he sits up in a hurry. The chains rattle against the rock.

Castiel looks at his wings. Everything is blurry, but he still notices their colour and their shape.

They used to be a deep blue that looked black sometimes. Now it's burnt black. The fire burnt holes in his wings, and several bones were broken.

Every memory flashes through Castiel's mind, and Castiel falls down on the floor. This is too much. Someone has destroyed his wings, a part of his grace. And Castiel can't tend to this wound.

His other bones will mend, his wounds and holes will seal with time. But his wings won't let him fly again, not without powerful spells.

Castiel curls into a tight ball and weeps.

\----  
Later, Castiel hears a rough voice that he shouldn't be hearing. The Righteous Man can't be asking him questions about his rank. He can't be the one who's holding the knife.

Still, Castiel doesn't dare to open his eyes.

The knife falls into the holes already cut in his skin, in his wings. Castiel screams and screams, but no sound comes through his throat. Instead, his True Voice screams for him.

Instantly, the knife stops.

"What did you - how?"

Castiel doesn't answer. He's hallucinating because of the pain. But everything will be alright soon. He keeps his eyes closed.

The knife doesn't come back for a time.

Castiel weeps until he can't feel a thing anymore.

\----  
As long as Castiel doesn't move, he can't feel the pain.

Castiel doesn't need to twitch any muscle to sing. He learnt how to sing with his Voice long ago, when Gabriel was still in Heaven.

Castiel knows many songs; songs of joy and loneliness, songs of worship and love.

Somehow, he doesn't settle upon any of them. The words come to him like in a dream.  
His Voice is already going through the first notes before Castiel realized which one he chose. 

The Winchester Psalm.

'Darkness Will Fall Over All Lands,  
Creatures Of The Deep Will Crawl Over The Earth Once More,  
And The Fallen One Will Once Again Prepare His Escape;  
For Lucifer Needs Neither Food Nor  
Rest.  
His Wicked Creatures Are Awaiting His Return,  
But The Lord Will Never Let It Be.  
His Most Faithful Servants Are Working Hand In Hand,  
Sharpening Their Voices And Their Blades,  
For They Know What The Enemy Does Not :  
Dean Winchester Was Chosen.  
With Him The Apocalypse Will Be Averted,  
With Him The Human Race Will Prove Useful.  
In The Deepest Corner Of Hell The Righteous Man Will Suffer  
Until His Angel Rescues Him,  
Bringing Back The Light To Earth.'

Castiel used to recite all of the seventy-one verses when he sang it with his brothers. This time, he's interrupted by a loud gasp.


	6. Chapter Five - Colors

Castiel stops singing immediately. What a fool he’s been. Demons are torturing him to know his rank, and he just sang the angels’ entire plan ! If demons bothered with learning Enochian, Castiel pratically betrayed his kin.

 

When Castiel opens his eyes, he expects to see some demon’s true form looming over him, horrible faces blending together to form a beastly shape.

 

He’s met with a soft purple laced with shards of green. If this aura was under the sun, it would be shining with energy. But the Righteous Man is surrounded by darkness. Castiel’s soft glow is the only thing reflecting its light.

 

Castiel fixes his gaze on Dean’s eyes. Zachariah’s visions always showed him with eyes as blue as those of an archangel. He was wrong. Dean’s eyes are two bright stars, the only green ones in the night sky.

 

Castiel finally lowers his gaze. He’s the prisoner, and Dean is probably going to torture him to learn what the song was about. Dean should have heard weird cries and screeches. Only a few chosen ones can understand Enochian.

 

"What... did you just... was that you singing?"

 

Castiel blinks at Dean in surprise. He can’t have heard his Voice. If the human isn’t one of his possible vessels, it’s unheard of.

 

Still, Dean can’t have made that up.

 

"Do you even speak English?"

 

Dean crouches in front of him, his eyes focused on Castiel’s face. He’s waiting for an answer, but Castiel can’t find his voice.

 

He tries with his other Voice, hoping that Dean will understand. It would be like talking with his brothers again.

 

_Hello, Dean._

 

Dean shakes his head slowly.

 

"I got sounds, but no translation. Can you say that in English?"

 

Castiel opens his mouth, but no word come forth. His throat emits a strangled sound, before becoming silent once more.

 

Dean’s eyes land on his mouth, and he gasps. His eyes suddenly turn to steel.

 

He stands up, and Castiel startles, expecting a blade to appear in Dean’s hand.

 

There’s only an off-white cloth tucked between Dean’s fingers. It’s dirty but Dean still applies it to Castiel’s chin, to his mouth, to his broken nose and his tender flesh.

 

Castiel closes his eyes and prays that this isn’t another hallucination.  
\---

 

Much later, Castiel opens his eyes to find Dean sitting next to him. His eyes are full of tears.

 

"I did this to you, didn’t I?"

 

Castiel doesn’t nod, but Dean can clearly read the answer in his eyes. Dean’s aura almost turns white with the whirlwind of emotions passing through him.

 

Castiel wants to remind Dean of who he is. Dean is no demon, he was manipulated by Lilith and her minions. He’s a human, someone brave who would do anything for his brother. Someone who saved many lives.

 

But Castiel cannot voice any of these words, and his arms refuse to move.

 

All he has left is his songs.

 

’Don’t You Weep, O Fledgling  
The Lord Is Watching Over You  
And If He Doesn’t Have The Time  
I’ll Take Care Of You  
Don’t You Worry, O Brother  
Your Prayers Will Save You  
And If You’re Too Weak to Talk  
I’ll Pray For You  
Don’t You Despair, O Sister  
You Will Feel Love  
And If The Lord Is Too Far For You To Feel His Warmth  
Then I’ll Hold You Till Your Soul Shines As Bright As Sirius In The Night Sky’

 

When Castiel was just a fledgling, his sister Anael would sing this to him. She used to contemplate humans, and she created her own ’lullaby’, as she called it.  
It’s one of the first songs Castiel heard.

 

At the end of the song, Castiel opens his eyes. He must have closed them without noticing.

 

Dean is still staring at him. He’s glowing with a fierce purple tinted with green and blue. The aura keeps moving and changing right before Castiel’s eyes. Are all human auras that complex? Castiel had always perceived one emotion at a time in each aura. Jimmy’s had been blue with calm, before turning more and more green as fear overtook him.

 

Dean is a constant turmoil of emotions boiling and rolling under the surface. Castiel didn’t know it was possible to feel this many feelings at the same time.

 

"I don’t know what this song meant, but... but I can’t let you stare at me like that. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’m -"

 

A distant crash somewhere in the darkness silences Dean. Between one second and the next, Dean jumps to his feet and turns towards the intruder. Castiel would have done the same, if an angel blade wasn’t currently inside his leg.

 

"Well kiddo, I never got that report. Is his blood red or white?"

 

"Alistair." Dean’s voice has returned to its flat intonation, but the swirl of colors around him tells another story.

 

"No need to be dramatic. You can forget the title and all that. I just want my answer."

 

"Red."

 

"Ooh that’s disappointing, isn’t it? Did you fry his little wings, at least?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Alistair starts pacing around them, trying to get a better look at Castiel, but Dean keeps placing himself between them. His aura is steadily turning brown.

 

"Let me see him." Alistair’s voice rolls like thunder, while one of his many faces streches in a silent laugh.

 

Dean nods, but doesn’t back down before shotting a quick look behind his shoulder. His eyes are pleading ’trust me’.

 

Dean doesn’t understand that Castiel already trusts him. Dean didn’t deserve to lose his soul, to go to Hell. He’s the Perfect Vessel, he’s strong and righteous, exactly like in the psalms.

 

Dean wasn’t really the one holding the blade. Lilith and the other demons are the real evil. Castiel doesn’t need to forgive him, because there’s nothing to forgive.

 

Castiel can’t explain all that in a single look, so he just stares and stares at Dean, without breaking eye contact.

 

Then Alistair’s true form appears right under Castiel’s nose. If Castiel still had strength inside his body, he would have jolted away. As it is, he can only blink and frown.

 

"I can’t see any blood on this pretty angel’s face." Alistair’s fingers burn as much as the bounds still encircling Castiel’s wrists. They trail on his face, but Castiel doesn’t react.

 

One of Alistair’s many faces turns around, inspecting Dean’s expression.

 

"I think our little friend over there may have lost his touch."

 

If Castiel could talk with a human voice, he would have pointed out that he wouldn’t be so sure about that, given that an angel blade was currently piercing his leg. He can only gesture vaguely to his leg.

 

Alistair wraps his fingers around the handle of the weapon, before slowly turning it inside the wound.

 

Castiel gnaws at his lips until they bleed again, but he doesn’t scream, even with his true Voice.

 

"Good job, kiddo." Alistair nods. "You may still be of use after all."

 

Then, with a last riot of color, Alistair disappears.

 

Dean is instantly at Castiel’s side, checking his pulse, and dapping at his lips with his now stained cloth.

 

"I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m sorry sorry..." Dean keeps repeating the same words over and over. In his aura the brown is slowly beginning to take all the space available.

 

His hands are shaking so badly that Dean can’t remove the blade. He’s only managing to press a sharp blade against tender flesh.

 

Castiel manages to put his hand on Dean’s. He pats it awkwardly, once, twice, before letting go. His broken fingers land heavily on the ground. At least it stops Dean from muttering to himself.

 

Dean stares at him without blinking, without moving. Something shifts in his aura.

 

"Angel... I don’t know your name."

 

Castiel is about to remind him with a song, when his human ear perceives footsteps. Someone is closeby, marching upon them.

 

Dean’s whole body goes tense. With the tips of his fingers, he drags the closest weapon, a whip with a twisted end.

 

"Mornin’ !"

 

A young woman is standing behind Dean. Her soul used to be pale blue, the color of children, but it has been ripped apart so many times Castiel can hardly see the color anymore.

 

"I heard you -" 

Dean’s whip cuts another red mark on the soul, effectively silencing her, but otherwise the woman doesn’t react.

 

"Stop that, I don’t have time for courtesies. I heard you had angel blood."

 

Half hidden behind Dean, Castiel regrets that he can’t simply disappear from their human sight.

 

"How much do you need?"

 

Castiel can’t stop the tremor chilling him from the inside. He thought that Dean was himself again. But it could all have been an act to get information, or to have his blood...

 

"One gallon"

 

If Dean agrees to this deal, Castiel is dead. He doesn’t have enough grace to bear a loss as important as almost all of Jimmy’s blood. Especially if his grace has already mingled with the blood.

 

"Do you have holy water?"

 

Dean’s question makes the woman laugh. She throws her head back, but her aura doesn’t sparkle.

 

"And what if I do?"

 

"That’s my price. If you give me holy water, you’ll have your blood."

 

"How do I know you’re not going to take the water and go?"

 

"Where do you want me to run to?"

 

"Fair enough. I better get hold of some holy water then."

 

She walks back to the darkness she came from. As she disappears into the shadows, Dean exhales and drops his whip.


	7. Chapter Six - Another Deal

As soon as this woman gets back, Castiel will die.

Despite all the pain it went through, Dean's soul isn't shattered. But his mind must be, because Dean just sold Castiel's life for a few drops of holy water.

After a few beats of silence, Dean turns around. His soul is still beautiful, green and blue floating on a sea of purple. His mouth isn't contorted with maniac laughter.

But Castiel isn't fooled by his appearence. Deep down, the Righteous Man is broken. If Castiel had all his angelic powers, he could heal him. It seems now that he won't have the opportunity before death takes him.

Dean is looking at Castiel, but Castiel can't meet his gaze. He wants to remember Dean's eyes as they were before; full of emotions. Earlier they softened then were filled with tears. When Castiel gazed at Dean's eyes, he could see the little boy under the mask of a man.

Castiel's eyes land on Dean's feet. Dean is walking towards Castiel. If he still has mercy, he will kill Castiel quickly now. One stab in the chest, and everything will be over.

Castiel should be glad to be offered this swift end. He served his Father well, his grace will go back to Heaven and with it will be formed dozens of fledglings.

Somehow, Castiel doesn't wish this. He wants to understand what broke Dean this badly. He wants to know why Dean needs holy water. And, above all, he doesn't want to die before this story is over.

Castiel wants to live for a little while longer.

As Dean approaches, Castiel scrambles backwards. His hands slide and bleed over the rock, but Castiel doesn't slow down. He leaves an ocean of fallen feathers on his wake.

"Angel, stop."

Dean holds up his hands. There isn't any blade in them. His soul is bleeding green with fear.

Castiel stops moving. His arms are shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright.

"I'm not going to take your blood. Bela thinks she's smart, but she's too full of herself. I'll heal you with holy water, and then you'll kill her. Deal?"

Castiel has too many questions. How does Dean know that holy water will heal him? How can he ask Castiel to trust him? Why would this Bela agree to give away holy water before getting her blood?  
Castiel has too many inquiries to make, and he can't voice them.

And so, the only thing Castiel does is nod, because no matter what happens, he can't help but trust Dean. His eyes are too honest.

Dean smiles with his eyes, before picking up a feather on the floor. When his wings were burning, most of the contour feathers must have fallen off.

Dean turns the feather in his hands, gaping at the different colors. Castiel's grace reflects the light, making it look blue. But when Dean holds it closer to him, his aura makes it look green. The resulting color is mesmerising. 

At length, Dean crouches to pick up the other feathers. He clutches the pile of feathers against his chest. Castiel is reminded of the child who relived his best memories in Heaven.  
In one of them, he was picking up dead leaves before throwing them at his mother. Castiel can still hear the sound of the child's laughter.

Angels use feathers to sew capes for the fledglings whose wings aren't strong enough to fly with. Castiel was given Anael's feathers, once she fell. He kept the cape long after his first Flight.

Dean's hand on his shoulder effectively brings Castiel back to reality. It's been a long time since he last thought of his sister. Anael had always acted like she was his human mother. She had asked him to call her 'Ma'. Castiel knew that his family was his Father and his brothers and sisters, but it didn't stop him from singing lullabies with Anael. 

"Bela is coming back. You ready?"

Castiel nods slowly, then his arms give out and he falls on his back.  
Black dots cloud his vision, but he still hears perfectly their voices.

"Did it manage to die while I was gone?"

"Not yet. But if we don't give him some water now, his blood will be about as powerful as the blood of a rabbit."

"Do you really believe that I am going to give away my part of the deal?"

"You'll have your blood. He can't go anywhere, anyway."

Castiel feels cold fingers against his wrists. It's as refreshing as a storm on his wings after a Council. Castiel doesn't lean into the touch, but he fails to repress his shaky breath from tumbling out of his mouth.

"Burning shackles. So you only bring out elaborate torture for angels? Good to know."

"Just pass the damn water over."

"Don't speak ill of all that is holy... You could end up in Hell!"

Bela laughs bitterly then stops abruptly. She has the laugh of a madman. Castiel wonders how long she has been wandering in this place.

Castiel listens to his own breathing for a few moments, then cold hands are holding his head up as freezing water flows in his mouth.

Castiel feels the cuts on his body healing. His throat stops throbbing as soon as the first drops reach it. The angel blade is pushed out of the wound. It falls to the ground with a clatter.

Castiel's grace flows in his veins, bright and powerful. Even his wings don't hang uselessly anymore. They stutter and flap but they soon agree to vanish from sight. 

Castiel closes his eyes, and the bounds on his wrists explode. Dean recoils at the sight of the flames.

Castiel slowly gets to his feet. 

"Are you helping this _thing_ escape? You do realize it is a monster, like the ones you used to hunt?"

Dean doesn't respond. He starts running, catches Castiel's hand, and drags him forwards.


	8. Chapter Seven - Memories

After Castiel's First Flight, he was chosen as one of Zachariah's students. It was a great honour, given that he was raised by an angel who loved the humans more than her own kind, even more than their Father. Anael was never meant to live in Heaven. At least that's what Zachariah told Castiel when he came back from his first battle and she wasn't there to welcome him. Zachariah also told Castiel that she had chosen humans over her own kind a long time ago, thus her Fall was not a loss but a part of God's plan.

Castiel still shed some tears that night. He started gazing down at the stars and singing Anael's lullabies. For a short while, he stopped working. He spent hours on end in humans' Heavens, watching their best memories play on a loop with them. Castiel wished to understand why Anael would leave them to live this, but nothing in these memories gave him the answer to his questions. All he saw was packs of small families living and hurting, hating and loving each other in a hideously passionate way. How could Anael leave the pure love of God and her brothers and sisters to fall down into the mud?

Zachariah expected brightness, loyalty and faith from his students though. Castiel had to move on if he wanted to succeed. He learnt thousands of songs and psalms. He memorized thousands of facts about anything anyone would teach him. Anael had familiarized him with the human world, while his other brothers and sisters kept to the lessons in the textbook - mainly God's Words.

The other students of Zachariah regarded Castiel as a competitor. After a few weeks they gave him his New Name : from then on his brothers called him 'Castiel-Whose-Head-Is-Full'.  
The New Name of an angel is really important : it is a powerful thing to know, and once it is chosen, one keeps it forever.  
While the others were Named 'Faster-Than-The-Sun' or 'Demon-Slayer', Castiel was stuck with his New Name, which basically meant 'bookworm'.

Somehow none of what his brothers taught him has proved useful to succeed in his task. There were lessons about Hell and demons, but they were based on how to fight them, not how to creep into Hell. After all, when one is an angel one rarely takes a vacation to Hell.

Bela is shouting to the top of her lungs behind them. All the demons of the area will soon be alerted of their escape.

It doesn't matter. The Texts say that Castiel's mission will be a success. Dozens of demons won't alter the Word of God.

Still, Bela's shouts only urge them to run faster. Castiel would fly if he trusted his wings to support both their weights. But he has come to stop trusting anything. 

Castiel darts to the left as he hears the rush of air against the metal of the blade Bela threw. He tugs on Dean's hand. The blade barely scratches Dean's ear before hitting the rock and exploding in little shards.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look over his shoulder before quickening his pace. They don't have time to discuss the powers of angels.  
Castiel's grace is softly pulsing against his skin; his muscles are burning with it, but it's a good burn. His body is humming with power, and somewhere in the back of his mind Jimmy stirs. A memory flashes before Castiel's eyes ; asphalt stretching under his feet, his own laboured breathing sounding like thunder in the silence, the wind rushing against his ears, the moon shining down on him...

Then the moment is gone, the light fades out and Castiel is back in Hell, running from yet another danger.  
Jimmy goes back to sleep, huddled in the warmth of Castiel's grace.

The only thing Castiel remembers about the geograhy of Hell comes from a song made for fledglings. Teachers sing it to pace the First Flights. 

Castiel comes to a standstill and starts humming.

'And, Moving From Shadow To Shadow  
These Dark Creatures Formed Their Own Army,  
Lilith Led Them In The Absence Of Lucifer The Traitor  
Upon Her Distorted Faces She Wore A Blinding Crown  
Made Of Thousands Of Stars, Stolen From The Night Sky 

The Host Of Hell Followed Their Tireless Leader  
Through The Endless Hallways of Their Kingdom  
At Long Last The Myriad of Demons Reached The Throne Of Thorns  
Above Their Heads Was The Open Sky  
They Flew Towards It,  
As Swift As Shadows,  
As Light As Smoke.

So It Was That During The Night  
Demons Tricked Humans Into Being Their Vessels  
And As The Night Grew-'

The rest of the song gets stuck in Castiel's throat. Dean's hand is on his mouth. He's looking around them, frantically searching for something. Castiel doesn't dare to even breathe, let alone move. He knows what Dean is capable of. If he feels threatened, he could kill Castiel in a few seconds. Maybe the demons will forgive him, if he comes back with Castiel's head as a trophy.

Dean drops his hand, and Castiel immediately puts some distance between them. Now if Dean attacks him, he'll have a few seconds to react. Silence weighs on them; it feels like the very rocks above them are getting closer to the ground.

If Castiel remembered correctly then they have to take the most luminous path. They will reach the center of Hell, where they'll be least expected. Demons will be guarding the less important gates, knowing that Castiel wouldn't want to draw attention to his escape.

But he already has, and he doesn't know the way out except by going straight to the throne. At least they will have the element of surprise on their side.

Far above Dean's head a faint light is twinkling. Castiel points to it with a shaking hand. Then hides his treacherous hand behind his back. A powerful angel should not be afraid of one human. Even if this human spent his whole life torturing supernatural creatures.

Bela's words didn't go unheard. They are still echoing inside Castiel's head, making him wary of his every move.

_a monster, like the ones you used to hunt?_

_a monster_ _you used to hunt_

 _monster_  
_hunt_


	9. Chapter Eight - Pity

Castiel follows the light without looking back. His hands are still shaking at his sides, but his heartbeat has returned to its usual pace.

Castiel's muscles are getting tired, despite the comfort his grace brings. Jimmy's body is obviously used to short periods of exercise. It's a strange sensation. Castiel has never felt weary before, except after his first flights. It seems the strangest of places for Castiel to rediscover forgotten memories.

He can hear Dean's feet moving over the rock behind him. He can't help but listen to each movement, dreading the scrape of metal sliding out of a sheath, the first strike.

The rocks on each side are getting closer and closer. Soon they shall find another road, if this one gets impassable.

If an unwanted visitor ever set foot in Heaven - and this has only happened twice in the history of the world - they'd instantly get lost because they would never find their Road. Maybe they invented a similar system in Hell. This road may be a trap. Castiel can too easily picture demons hidden against the rock, waiting for them to get closer...

The utter black moves above Castiel's eyes, like someone has just replaced his blindfold. Castiel shivers, but he keeps going. He doesn't need to see in order to use his feet. Still, his eyes blink repeatedly in a vain effort to be useful. 

As Castiel starts losing his nerve, the light gets stronger and the road abruptly turns right. There, another bigger hallway appears, dimly lit by Castiel's grace.

Castiel's steps echo in the dead silence. Castiel stops at the beginning of the hallway, hesitating. His exhales sound louder than thunder.

A breath softly hissing through crooked teeth. A gasp, and then roars coming from every direction.

In the darkness, Castiel catches a glimpse of two pale gleaming lights, two eyes staring back at him.  
Castiel gets closer, his grace enlightening the cell. An old woman is hung there. 

The light of her soul can only be seen through its cracks. Her eyes are constantly rolling, fixating on Castiel then glancing away immediately. They are almost white, having spent such a long time in complete darkness.

Her voice joins the others, a soft litany of names she has repeated over and over. A list of people loved dearly, and who loved her in return.

Castiel wonders which names he would repeat over and over if he was in this cell. Who would he call again and again, wishing that it'll be enough to remember them?

Something brushes against his back. Castiel shifts so that he can face the intruder. A small bony hand is stretched towards him.

"Help me. Please." The voice of a child, broken and afraid.

Castiel retreats slowly. The hand is swallowed by the darkness.

Castiel hurries along the hallway, hoping that Dean is following the light of his grace. He doesn't have time to check if he's still there. If he spends another second near these lost souls asking for forgiveness, for love, he will completely forget his mission. If he stares too long in the twinkling eyes studying him, he will rescue them all.

He doesn't stop until the endless screaming and screeching and pleading dies away. Castiel is left with the sounds of his own labouring breath.

All around him, black rocks are glinting in the dark as if rain poured on them moments ago.

Castiel's last Talk with Zachariah echoes in his head. His superior had assured him that every soul doomed to spend eternity being tortured deserved it. 

But this old woman, this young boy, and all the others hurting alone in their cells, they didn't deserve this. Castiel doesn't know what they did during their human life. Somehow, it doesn't matter. Nobody deserves to feel this much pain, to spend eternity loveless.

His Father taught the angels to love humans, to protect them. He forgave humans for their mistakes, time and time again, when He was still living among his Children.

Then He left them to their own devices. Now only a selected few can hear his Word directly. Castiel wants to prove himself worthy of his Father's trust. He observed humans from afar, hoping to understand how to love them.

He has never been so close to answers than in Hell. The humans trapped here are not soulless. They do have souls, albeit damaged ones. And despite all the pain they went through, they still have names to whisper, loved ones to remember. While he was still a prisoner, Castiel couldn't think of a better thing to repeat than what he was taught. 

Castiel wonders if Dean realizes this. He doesn't seem to know how special he is. After all, nobody told him that he was the Righteous Man.

Castiel turns to Dean, wanting his first words to Dean to be this statement.

Dean is not behind him.

Dean could be anywhere in this maze. How long has it been since Castiel last heard Dean's soul pulsing behind him? What with all the broken souls around him, begging him to help them, he got distracted.

Castiel can almost hear the echo of Zachariah's disappointed tone in his head. He had Heard it countless times, although it wasn't always directed at him. Nonetheless, he has failed this particular task. He had found Dean... And he had lost him. Zachariah should have sent Uriel. Maybe he has already asked him, and Uriel is flying right now towards Dean, down, down, down until he can retrieve him. Uriel has always been the strongest of the garrison. He was the first one to be Named; and he has remained Uriel 'No-Fear' ever since. If 'No-Fear' raised the Righteous Man from perdition, it would make a lot more sense than 'Bookworm' being assigned this task. 

For now though, Castiel can't sense another angel close by. Dean is utterly alone, and it's entirely Castiel's fault. 

Castiel could find Dean again. He didn't dare to use his grace earlier, because he feared it would attract demons, but now he doesn't have another alternative. 

Dean's soul has its own color, and it produces a distinct pulse that Castiel will pinpoint if he Hears with his Grace, instead of his ears. Within a few seconds, Castiel detects that steady sound. He doesn't give himself time to think, he's already running in that direction. He has to find Dean, he will prove to everyone that he can do it. He will be Named again, for the first time in the angels' history. 

The pulse of Dean's soul gives rhythm to Castiel's steps, and Castiel is paying too much attention on Hearing it to be out of breath. Everything blurs around him, the black rock, the darkness, the cells. If Castiel didn't know better, he could close his eyes and pretend to be back in Heaven, flying at night. He always liked the stars better than the blinding Sun and eyes boring into him. 

For a few seconds, Castiel enjoys the wind rushing against his face, the noise his feet make against the rock... It feels like Jimmy's memory, only more vibrant. Maybe it's because Castiel is actually experiencing it. He suddenly wonders if living a memory is any different from living a real life. Do humans feel the difference, once they're in Heaven? He has never asked. In fact, he has never approached them. He's only watched their memories from afar. At the time, he had feared to interact with them. They seemed to be so different, so far from what Castiel was used to. 

Maybe Anael spoke to them. She must have been tempted to be human afterwards. Castiel wonders if he should try this, when he gets back Home. It might help him understand her departure. He could meet other humans like the ones in their cells. He could help them, protect them.

As Castiel considers talking to the lonely man who has been playing with the same kite for centuries, he collides with something. He was trusting his grace to prevent him from scratching his fragile body against the rock. And he hasn't. He collided into something firm, and landed on top of it. Castiel peers under him, trying to decipher something despite the darkness surrounding him. Then he gets to his feet as quickly as he can.

He has found Dean.


	10. Dean - Echoes

He is walking alone. 

Angel is no longer leading the way. He has probably left, afraid of his hideous soul. Everyone leaves at some point, he has known that for a long time someone left him a lot of people gave up on him Before because he's just not worth it - Angel has done it quickly, before he could get attached. 

The flicker of hope ignited in his chest since the beginning of their escape will have to be ignored. 

It's better this way.

Or maybe Angel disappeared. He may have never been truly there at all. Who knows what kind of elaborate torture Alastair has created lately? He was so busy escaping, he didn't get a chance to ask.

But then, you never know. Alastair could appear right now and start explaining. It would be easy to fall back on old habits. But he doesn't think he wants to.

It's a scary thing, to want. 

And he wants a lot of things. 

He wants to escape, he wants to see the Sun again, he wants to find Angel.

Angel has a soft glow. 

It's blue.

Reassuring. He doesn't like the darkness anymore. It didn't use to bother him, Before.

But a really long time ago, he used to be afraid of the dark. He had asked his mom to let the hallway lit so he could watch the soft light coming through his door ajar before he fell asleep he never had to ask again because mom would always leave a light on she never forgot, not until -

He is lying in his bed. There's a blanket above him, and he's observing the hallway from under it. The light is softer that way, and he can pretend that nobody sees him, not even the monster under the bed. Dad said that there was nothing there, but Mom still gave him a lucky charm, just in case. He's now clutching the ring with both hands, praying that he won't be eaten tonight. He thinks of the angels his Mom always talks about, and stares at the one on his bedside table.

The angel is looking towards the door, his back to Dean. It seems a good plan, but if the monster comes from under the bed... He shivers, and shifts until the top of his head is hidden under the blanket, too. To think of something else, he softly hums his lullaby. Mommy says that she invented it just for him, but he doesn't believe her because Olivia knew it, too. He doesn't know all the words, but he remembers the tune. He hums and closes his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep because the room seems much darker when he reopens his eyes. The ring is no longer in his hand, and when he manages to retrieve it, he's awake enough to notice the amount of light coming from the hallway. It shimmers, and it's more orange than usual. He doesn't like this light, it looks like it's alive.

He pushes back the covers, and gets up. He slips the ring on his thumb. It's clearly too big for his finger, but it doesn't fall on the carpet. Dean feels almost like an adult. With the right heels, he could imitate his mother perfectly. He smiles as he imagines showing off to Sammy.

He walks towards the door, and stops smiling. Something is definitely wrong. He goes into the hallway. The light doesn't come from the lamp, but from Sammy's room. Sammy should be asleep by now. He doesn't understand.

His father is coming out of Sammy's nursery, holding him. Maybe Sammy had a nightmare. But that doesn't explain the smell of smoke coming from them.

He wants to ask 'Is there a fire? Where's mom? Why is Sammy's room on fire? Are we going to die? Are the firemen coming?', and a few hundred questions popping in his head, but he says them all in one word :

"Daddy?"

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look -"

And then, something collides into him, and he's back to Now. He breathes like he's just been drowned. Maybe he has.


	11. Chapter Nine - Hurt

The seconds are ticking away, and Dean doesn't move. Castiel's grace perhaps crushed Dean's soul. That would explain the grey tones in his aura. If his soul is damaged, Castiel has no idea how to heal it. His grace would not be enough, Dean would need a more powerful angel. Why has Zachariah sent Castiel? One of Joshua's students would have known how to heal Dean. All their lessons in the Garden, learning about healing plants, would prove infinitely more useful than Castiel's training.

Then Dean groans, rolls on his back, and Castiel realizes that he didn't cause pain to Dean. Something is wrong, but it doesn't have anything to do with Dean's soul. Castiel's breath tumbles out of his mouth. He hadn't noticed that he had been holding it. Any damage to Dean's soul would be deadly. Castiel shudders at the mere thought of this incredible purple soul burning to ashes.

Two green eyes are staring at him. They are wide and afraid, even though Castiel doesn't feel any demons nearby. Maybe Dean has encountered some, but that wouldn't explain why Dean looks petrified with fear. Dean is the strongest man Castiel knows; a few demons wouldn't scare him.

Dean is still lying on the floor. Castiel offers him his hand. Dean grabs it like a lifeline. Castiel pulls him to his feet. Once standing, Dean doesn't let go of his hand. For lack of knowing what to do, Castiel lets him take it. Dean's palm feels warm.

Dean doesn't look well at all. His hand is shaking, his eyes are darting right and left, and he has to lean against Castiel to remain standing. Castiel twists his neck to look down at Dean. His lower lip is trembling.

"An..." Dean's voice breaks almost as soon as he starts speaking. He clears his throat, tries again: "Who's Sammy?"

Castiel lets out a small gasp at the words. When Dean recognized Bella, Castiel had assumed that Dean remembered his life on Earth. That was obviously not the case. The demons must have tortured Dean for a very long time for him to forget his loved ones. No matter how many times Orpheus reminded her of their past love, Eurydice never showed any sign of remembering her previous life. From then on, Orpheus only played mourning songs.

Dean's case is unique. He's not back on Earth yet, and he remembers the name of his brother. Reminding him of the rest might prove as useful as reminding Eurydice of her love for Orpheus. And seeing how Dean reacted to one snippet of his life, Castiel is afraid of the shock he will give him if he tells him everything.

Castiel shakes his head and is about to answer Dean when his grace shifts inside him. The air gets heavier. Demons are marching towards them.

His hand twitches and his cold blade falls in it. It brings him the confidence he didn't feel for a long time. He turns around, facing his enemies.

There are three of them. Castiel could take them on his own, that is if Dean doesn't drop to the floor the second he stops supporting his weight.

Castiel lets go of Dean's hand and walk forward. The demons are curving their vessels' mouth into smirks, moving in practiced movements to form a circle around the fugitives. They didn't notice the blade in Castiel's hand yet. Castiel calmly waits for one of them to strike the first blow.

He doesn't have to wait for a long time. The demon on the far left rushes forward, becoming smoke for a second. Then he's back in his human form, his skeletal face an inch away. His punch sends Castiel on the floor. He scrambles back up. His blade shots upwards. The demon clutches his chest. Blood is dripping from his mouth.

Castiel grips the handle of his blade. It comes out covered by blood. Castiel stares at it. This is human blood tainted by demonic possession, but it remains human.

Ignoring the lump forming in his throat, Castiel draws his gaze to his opponent. He's coughing up more blood. It stains the shirt Castiel is wearing. He looks down at the red spot, horrified.

When Castel looks back up, reminding himself that this is not his first fight, the demon is dead. Another one has taken its place. He was apparently waiting to have Castiel's attention because the blow comes at the moment Castiel raises his gaze.

The sharpness of the blade is immediate. It brings pain and uncomfortable memories, the ones Castiel doesn't want to remember in the middle of a fight. Warm blood trickles along his right hip. His grace is already healing the wound, but for the time being Castiel is weakened. There are still two enemies to kill.

Castle clasps his own sword. It glimmers blue in the darkness. The weight of it is familiar in his hand. He has fought with it ever since he made it. Shortly after that came the Naming Celebration when he officially stopped being a Fledgling and became a Warrior of God.

He knows exactly where to apply the blade to cause lethal wounds. He aims for the sensitive skin below the ear, where the demon's smoke is the most vulnerable.

Their two blades meet with a clatter. Castiel leans against their blades to smite the demon, but it lowers his weapon. Castiel doesn't lose his balance, but he is too slow to notice the third demon springing up beside him.

Its fist collides against Castiel's ribs. Some of them strain under the pressure; Castiel can feel the skin swelling under its knuckles. But he's already moving away, readying his arm above his head. His blade scrapes the last demon, right when the other demon jumps on his back. Its arm is sneaking around Castiel's neck, trying to get a proper grip. Castiel gives a loud cry, shakes his head. His opponents are well-prepared. They are making a slow dance around Castiel, taking their time because they know they will win.

But they won't. Castiel won't let them. With a surge of desperation, he falls on his back. The second demon doesn't have time to let go of Castiel. He lands heavily on his spine. The demon gives a shout, which would have covered the sound of vertebrae breaking to a human ear. Castiel picks out the sound perfectly well.

Castiel could stay still and regain his breath. Given a little time, he could suffocate the demon using only his weight. But that's the one thing Castiel lacks: time. The last demon is already progressing towards him. Castiel gets to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest. He will take care of his ribs afterward.

This time, Castiel doesn't dwell on the damage done to the human vessel. His blade plunges in the aorta in one practiced motion. It would have been followed by equally rapid removal of the blade if Castiel hadn't been disturbed by the two sets of footsteps he hears approaching. As it is, the demon lying on the floor uses his last moments to tug on the blade and throws it at his partner.

Castiel is left bladeless when the third demon catches up with him. He sees the confidence in the smirk thrown his way, in the flippant way he holds the newly acquired weapon. Castiel will probably die here. But if he does, the demon will go down with him. Castiel squares his shoulders, lets the fire of his grace burn inside his irises. He won't die without a fight.

Castiel feels rather than sees the green and purple shape charging the demon. For the first seconds, he stares in astonishment at Dean. Dean, whose soul is burning with an intensity Castiel has never seen. It is consuming everything around it. Castiel stays mesmerized by this site until the first blow reaches Dean's soul.

Castiel doesn't wait to see the first droplets of blood. He is already propelled forward by a force stronger than anything he's felt before. He feels something roaring inside his chest at the sight of a cruel creature destroying one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. His lessons about demonic anatomy and way of fighting are completely forgotten. The only thought left is stopping that demon from killing Dean. And if he has to die to achieve his goal, he will.

The demon throws Dean away from him. He sags against the rocks, but his soul is still pulsing lightly. Castiel rushes at the demon before he can reach Dean. He doesn't think about his moves beforehand. If he was taking this fight like a game of chess before, now he is fighting tooth and nails. The pain in his chest increases, but he pays no attention to it. It's a very distant thought. He scratches and punches and kicks like a madman. He opens his knuckles on the vessel's face. There's blood everywhere.

He only stops when the demon stops twitching under him. He regains consciousness slowly, then all at once. He remembers Dean thrown against the rocks, and immediately leaves the demon's body to rush at Dean's side. His face is bloody, but he's breathing. Castiel brings two fingers to his head, and he heals Dean with the delicacy he reserved for his wounded brothers. His grace mends the broken lip, the bruises, the punctured lung, and the twisted spine. But it does nothing to clear the black, black cloud inside Dean's mind. Castiel can feel his grace rushing against it, and being rejected. With a sigh, he lowers his hand.

Dean is opening his eyes. Castiel reads confusion and relief mixed there. He doesn't need to check Dean's soul; his eyes are expressive enough. Dean's hand reaches out to hold his. Castiel lets him.


	12. Chapter Ten - Feeling

Castiel sweeps his hand on the floor again. He pushes the body to the side, looks under it, around it, everywhere. Dean is a silent presence at his side.

_It can't be gone._

How will Castiel fight without his blade? He can't use another one. It was made with his grace, his blood, his wings... He doesn't have functioning wings. And despite his faith in the way his grace is mending the broken bones, he's past the age of producing new feathers. His were burnt, and they will remain ashes. There will be no feather to produce a new blade.

"They will catch us." Dean's voice is small. It barely gets through the thick silence dancing around them. "If we don't go away."

Castiel straightens up. He casts one last look at the demon's corpse: his faces are stuck in a monstrous expression; the last one is smirking. He leaves the body and the pile of glass - the remains of both his enemy and his weapon.

Castiel briskly walks away from this place. He's not even thinking about his goal - the throne. He just wants to put as much distance as possible between their pursuers and them. The first tendrils of _something_ are stretching in his stomach. This is definitely not an agreeable sensation, but Castiel doesn't know how to stop it.

While Castiel was taking his time with healing Dean, the demon was destroying his blade. Given the smirk that he was wearing during his last moments, he knew perfectly well that Castiel would have difficulty producing a new blade. Castiel clenches his jaw when the image of that smirk surges up in his mind. If he hadn't already killed that demon, he would do it again.

Castiel sighs at the confusion in his own thoughts. He has seen humans do this, in times of desperation. The sharp exhale brings him little relief; nothing but regaining his blade will.  
At least it tampers the boiling lava that was erupting in his abdomen.

Somewhere deep inside of his mind, Castiel admits to himself that he's comforted by the inferno in the pit of his stomach. He's afraid of what it will feel like once the adrenaline and the raw anger are gone. Probably as hollow as it had been for the last few billion years. 

There is no time to further settle his nerves. There are pursuers behind them, demons that are more organized than Castiel thought they could be. He's already wounded, and Dean is staggering slightly at each step. They are not ready for another altercation.

If Castiel wasn't wounded and didn't have bruised ribs, he'd be running. Beside him, Dean is restraining himself from rushing forward, far, far, and further than that still. His steps are more confident, now. He doesn't need Castiel's support to carry himself, and his hands aren't visibly shaking. Castiel takes these as good signs, but he's slowly finding that when it comes to humans, everything is to be expected. Dean could be drowning in dark thoughts right now, and Castiel wouldn't be aware of it.

Everything is quiet.

This is more difficult than walking beside a fellow angel. Be it in Heaven or on Earth, angels are all together. They all align the sounds of their thoughts to the same frequency, and they share them. It must be a cacophony to a human ear, but Castiel is used to it. Since descending in Hell, he's been reaching out a few times with his thoughts, unaware of his own actions. And every time, he had to stop looking for another angel, because he'd be attracting demons.

Walking in utter silence is unnerving. It fills Castiel's head until he feels the pressure of it on his shoulders, all around him. Castiel sighs loudly to fill the silence, to send it away. After a few moments, it comes waltzing back.

Castiel's feet slow down, and when he forces them to walk faster, they stumble over invisible obstacles. Castiel would have sighed again if his chest hadn't started to hurt. Each intake of breath brings its own army of needles. The pain rolls like a wave, flaring up and dying down, time and time again.

And so they keep walking. The road never turns, never changes. Castiel could swear that they are nearing the same wing-shaped rocks they saw earlier. But then, everything looks the same with so little light. 

"Let's stop, alright? I don't think anybody is coming for us." 

Castiel looks at Dean with wide eyes. Has he gone mad? They can't stop walking, their enemies may be pursuing them while they speak. If Dean needs to rest, Castiel will gladly carry him. He's an angel, after all. 

With a hand on his shoulder, Dean guides him to sit on a large rock half blocking the path. At least Castiel doesn't remember ever seeing this particular place.

"You're bleeding. You should rest. I'll take care of it."

Castiel needs to refuse. Being wounded doesn't mean that he can rest. _He_ is not bleeding. His vessel is. Castiel should have remembered that earlier, he's letting the sensations get to him.  
Castiel should refuse. But the offer is too tempting. It's been such a long time since someone last tended to him. 

He was still a Fledgling. Another student of Zachariah had caused damage to his left wing during a fight.

The feathers are smooth under his fingers, they slide under his touch. Castiel is looking at them with fascination. 

His Brothers are starting another Fight, no longer paying attention to him. 

Usually, his feathers shine blue but the blood is staining them. It's the first time he sees its crimson color. Each time he touches the wound more pours out. It's fascinating.

He extends his hand towards the tip of the wing, to see if it bends at an odd angle. Zachariah has shown them battles through thought, and he remembers corpses scattered on the floor, their lifeless members twisted.

Before he grips his wing, a strong thought is pushed against his mind. He immediately recognises the mind who has produced it. She's using their private frequency.

Castiel looks for her, and she's beside him.

'Anael.'

She tilts her head made of light. The light is more darker, and Castiel can feel the anger emanating from her like waves.

The thought is thrown against his mind again.

'Why aren't you in the Garden to report your wound?'

She brings a cloth to his feathers. Her voice is harsh but her movements are gentle. The holy water is refreshing. He relishes the sensation of cold, without having words to describe it. 

'Remember Castiel, you may despise humans, but you bleed like them.'

Then Anael touches the wound. The surface of his grace ripples. Castiel hisses, but Anael is already finished.

She's quick and efficient. Castiel suddenly thinks that she could have been a very good Healer. Despite the tears escaping her eyes, her hands are steady and she puts back the bones without flinching. Once everything's settled, she hugs him fiercely.

Castiel burrows closer to her. He doesn't say anything, because she can feel the gratitude in his thoughts.

They keep hugging without moving. When Castiel starts to wonder if she has slowed down time hust so this hug will last forever, she lets him go. She is smiling in this private way only Castiel witnesses.

After a little nod, Castiel turns around to look at his wings. He doesn't feel anything anymore. They should be healed by now, ready to support his weight during the First Flight, which is coming soon.

His wings are far from healed. They are burning, the flames more impressive than he remembered and it hurts from the tip of the bigger feathers to his shoulder blakes 

"Remember Castiel, you may despise humans, but you burm like them." A horrible smile is stretching Dean's mouth. His soul is a pale grey.

he's screaming  
he can hear his voice deformed against the rocks repercuting again and again...  
he looks up to the open sky above him and he tries to heave oxygen into his lungs except no fresh air comes through  
he's suffocating air used to be a foreign notion but now he knows  
oh he knows why humans need this to survive because he needs it too  
his vision is blurry nothing makes sense why can't he -

he can't hear anything can't see anything but he knows that everything is different  
There are hands on his arms  
holding him,  
grounding him

He takes a shallow breath. Then another,and another, until Castiel opens his eyes.


	13. Chapter Eleven - Words

Dean's soul is not grey. The blurry colors are shifting too quickly in front of Castiel's eyes for him to recognize them. There is but one certainty left: Dean's soul is so luminous it is almost tangible. It's a constant turmoil of feelings, of shades blending and separating.

Castiel hangs onto this fact until the ground stops rolling under his feet. He perceives the separate colors: green, fear; gold, relief; red, anger; pale yellow, hope; deep blue, concern; and something purple that is uniquely Dean.

'Greengoldredyellowbluepurplegoldblueredgreenyellowpurplepurpleyellowbluegreenredgold'  
Castiel repeats them like a Fledgling memorizing the different auras. 'Goldyellowredbluebluepurplegr-'

A warm hand presses down on his shoulder. His thoughts stop spiraling out of control.

He wants to call Dean, to ask him to stay, but his throat only emits a gargled sound.

"Hey, just lay down ok? You don't look good."

Castiel lowers himself on the cold, hard floor. He's been here before, chains holding him down and flames eating him alive and -  
This time, there is a hand against his shoulder. Castiel focuses on breathing for a moment. It chases the tears pricking his eyes.

"Are you hurt? Here, let me..."

Castiel can hear Dean shuffling and searching for something, but he doesn't move his head. It feels too heavy.

Cold fingers press against the rip on his side. The wound heals instantly. Fingertips lightly touch his bloody knuckles.

Castiel exhales shakily. His body is fully operating now, but the hole in his chest is still gaping wide. His chest is contracting painfully, even after Dean has poured the last of the holy water on it.

Only the reminder of his mission makes Castiel open his eyes. He can't be lulled to sleep: angels don't sleep, they only hibernate from time to time. And this is definitely not the right time to cut himself off from the world.

Castiel turns his head, and his gaze falls on the rocks. On the four feathers resting there, next to an empty vial, shining blue light in the darkness.

Is this another hallucination? Or is this real?

Castiel pushes himself up and grabs the feathers. He expected to feel something, anything that would tell him _these are mine_. But he only feels their softness against the skin of his palm.

"They must have fallen off when I took the holy water."

Dean's soul is bleeding bright red as his cheeks turn pink. Embarrassment is a foreign notion.

"Thank you." Castiel's voice sounds odd. It's a far cry from how his True Voice sounds, but at least Dean hears him.

"You... you..." Dean blinks, regains his composure. "It's nothing."

He doesn't realize that he just gave Castiel hope. These feathers are hope. With them, Castiel will be able to make a new blade. With a blade, they will defeat their enemies, and soon Castiel will get to the surface of the Earth, loudly singing 'The Righteous Man Is Saved'.

Castiel clutches the feathers a little tighter. His lips are stretched in a smile. Castiel brings his other hand to his mouth. 

He is smiling. Dean smiles back at him.

"I can make a new blade. But I need your help."

Dean is already sitting down in front of him, his soul sparkling.

Castiel gathers his grace at the edge of his body, in his fingertips, and he starts drawing shapes, that are still embedded in his mind.

Dean watches him work, fascinated. The silence widens the space between them.

Castiel starts talking because it's the only way he knows to keep the silence at bay.

"When I was created, and that was a long time ago, no-one knew where to put me. I was not made after the full moon, like a Messenger, nor was I born in a flurry of light, along with a new planet, as all good Warriors do.  
I simply came to be. I remember the ocean, the waves rolling against the shores. I arrived between one wave and the next.

"Michael discussed my fate with the Voice of God for some years. When they finally reached an agreement, Anael had already welcomed me into her nest. She loved me with this motherly love every angel lacks. When Michael showed up to inform her that I was to be taken under his wing, she fiercely refused."

"She was a rebel, then?" Dean has leaned towards him, his hair falling on his eyes.

"You could say that, yes. I was still a Fledgling when she Fell."

"She... fell? As in...-"

"As in she became human, and lost all memories of her previous life."

"I'm sorry."

This must be a human custom : to be sorry for things they cannot control, to share the sorrow of others. He inclines his head politely, accepting the genuine sadness inside Dean's eyes without understanding it.

How should he answer, now? Is Dean expecting him to keep on talking, or is there something else he should say?

Dean saves him the trouble of finding a suitable answer by talking.

"I lost my mom too. I was only four when she - yeah. I thought it was buried somewhere deep inside me, but lately I keep thinking about her. I look at the ring she gave me and I remember all sorts of silly things about her, like her favorite song or the games we used to play. It bugs me that I forgot how her voice sounded." 

Castiel's heart contricts in his chest at the thought of a little freckled boy living without a mom to fuss over him, to dress him and to cut out the crusts.  
He doesn't know how to voice this. If this were a fellow angel, he would let his feelings flow through their private link, but this is Dean.  
Castiel doesn't know how to tell him about it.

Except he does.

"I'm sorry."

The words feel wrong in his mouth somehow, too little to express the extent of his empathy. But they make Dean relax, some light mixes with the light of his soul, so perhaps they are enough.

Castiel adds feathers on three different points of his drawings. He keeps the last one, absorbing it in his grace. 

"I keep forgetting things." Dean's voice is small and afraid. His hand is clutching his ring, turning it around his finger. "I don't remember your name. I don't know why I'm here. There's this 'Sammy' person always on the edge of my mind, the only thing I know is that it's someone important. My mom is the only clear memory in my mind. The rest is... foggy."

Castiel stops in his movements and considers Dean's words. He can't tell him about his life. It would be best if Dean remembered on his own. He already knows about his mother. Castiel has to believe that the rest will come back, too.

"Castiel." Dean frowns at him. "My name is Castiel. That much I can remind you of." 

Dean nods. His forehead looks less creased.

Castiel looks down at his hands. Everything is ready, it needs words of true faith now. 

Enochian sounds better with his True Voice, but this will have to do. The blade shapes itself against his palm. He holds it up, inspects it.

"I need your blood, now." Castiel looks at Dean and adds "Please."

Dean doesn't hesitate. He immediately stretches his hand out towards Castiel.

The blade runs gently on Dean's hand. Castiel only needs one droplet of blood, and he doesn't want to hurt Dean more than what is necessary.

The metal glows red, then blue, before laying still in Castiel's hand. Castiel forms a grin with his lips. 

They are going to win.

Dean is staring at the weapon with wide eyes. When he talks, the words trickle slowly, as if they don't want to be heard.

"Before... before I - I used to have weapons. Why would I need them? If I'm here, I must have been a bad person. I've done horrible things, here, too, after all -"

Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but stops with a glance from Dean. Dean doesn't maintain his gaze and bows his head.

Perhaps Dean won't believe him until he is reminded of who he is.

Dean looks back at him. A tear is rolling down his cheek, but he doesn't bother wiping it.

"I think I'm beginning to understand... but I need to hear it. Cas, please."

Castiel helds his breath. He shouldn't tell Dean about his forner life, it probably will be as difficult for him as for Orpheus. But this situation is unique. Dean is unique.

Castiel wants to try. He has a lot of reasonable reasons to do that, but they are not why he starts speaking. He does it because in all the time he has lived, nobody has bothered re-Naming him. He has been 'bookworm' for so long, even the Brothers who like him use it.

But Dean gave him a new Name. He called him Cas, and so Castiel shall prove worthy of this new name.  
Dean gave him a new Name, so Castiel will give him back his.

"Your name is Dean Winchester."


	14. Dean - Burning

He inhales.

"Sic 'em, boy !"

The voice is loud in his mind. The hounds are two black dots in the darkness, getting closer... He already knows what to expect; faces made of human bodies he has obsessed over for so long...

Dean blinks. There are no hounds surrounding him. They already ripped him to shreds.

Dean is already

                           Dead.

"Now, Dean, go!"

"Dad lied to me. I want you to have it."

"I'm out of here!"

"Easy, tiger"

"Dean?"

"Dad wants us to pick up where he left off"

"We've got work to do"

"Let me look at you... Sam!"

"You stupid ass! What did you do? What did you do?!"

 

"Sic' em, boy !"

 

Breaths are coming too fast, it's too much it's all too much...

Come on Dean get a grip you're a Winchester and Winchesters don't scare that easily

you're in Hell so what Cas is with you he will watch-

 

"Angels are watching over you"

Yeah, right.

 

Dean watches Castiel, who is staring at him. If Dean squints he can see the big blue eyes and the parted lips through the blue aura. Cas seems... surprised.

 

"if somethin' tries to bust in?"

"Shoot first, ask questions later."

 

Dean is a Winchester. When he encounters monsters who know him by name, it's usually a bad sign. For them.

The angel is barely holding his blade. With a practiced flick of the wrist, Dean takes it. He waves it threateningly towards Castiel.

 

"How do you know my name, huh?"

 

The demon stutters. This is a human thing. He's probably doing it so Dean forgets he's a monster.

Well, too bad. Dean can't think of anything else.

 

"Who sent you?"

 

Dean already knows the answer to this one. Alistair did it.

During the first months, Sam went to Hell a thousand times. Each time, he was looking at Dean with disgust. Sam blamed him for leaving him alone on Earth, where he had been killed. And every time, there was a lash put in Dean's hand...

 

The blade is shaking. Why is it - his hand is shaking, too. Dean lowers his weapon. He hopes Cas didn't- he can't show his weakness to his enemy.

 

"'This a new kind of torture, then?"

 

So they are torturing him with hope this time. Given the ache in Dean's chest, it's working. When Castiel disappears, and Alistair takes his place, Dean should tell him what a great job he's done. They should promote the demon who got the idea.

 

"Dean, I'm an angel of the Lord! I would never associate with a demon. Angels were brought here to love humanity, not to hurt it!" Cas's gaze is intent on Dean when he adds quietly: "I would never hurt you."

 

Dean remembers the lash, the blood, the yells. He didn't hesitate to hurt Cas. Why won't Cas get revenge?

Dean closes his eyes.

Memories are playing quickly on the back of his eyelids. Flames.

He sees John dying, then Sam. His baby brother collapsing to the floor. The blood was warm on his jacket.

 

Dean looks back at Castiel.

"If you're an angel, as you say, why are you in Hell?"

 "I'm acting upon God's orders. He requested that... that we saved you. You're the Righteous Man, Dean."

Dean scoffs. He can hear the capital letters in the angel's tone. This is ridiculous. Even Alistair must know that Dean would never fall for the Chosen one crap, right?

Cas tilts his head to the side. His eyes are full of wonder.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved."

He says it like Dean is being a foolish human. Of course, Cas never felt a hole growing in his chest, destroying everything inside…

 

In a swift movement, Dean puts the blade over his heart. Dean should go back to being dead. Back then, it was effortless. There was no regret, no feeling, there was only a task given.

Alistair gave orders, and Dean obeyed. Dean knows exactly where to apply the blade to get a lethal wound.

 "Dean!"

Cas leans forward, but Dean acts faster. He jumps out of reach.

His hand presses against his chest. The blade cuts his skin. Blood runs down his chest. It shines purple.

"If it kills you, it kills me, right?"

 

 Cas is staring fixedly at the trickle of blood tainting Dean’s shirt purple.  His hand is still held out towards Dean. Everything is still, except for the blood pumping in Dean’s heart and spilling out on his shirt.

 

"Dean, you have to listen to me. You-d-I-” The words are tumbling out of Castiel’s mouth all at once, and he has to start his sentence again. “I can’t prove that I am good, you have to trust me. I’m asking for a leap of faith.”

“Sorry, faith isn’t really my thing.” The sarcasm is back, each word is dripping with it.

Cas only tilts his head again. Dean thinks of an owl. An owl with insanely blue eyes.

 

"I'm damned, and you are telling me you find my lack of faith disturbing!”

 Dean looks at the darkness around them, thinks about the darkness inside, and the blinding light coming from Castiel’s eyes. Laughter came in a short burst. It sounds awfully like something from a horror movie.

Dean eyes Castiel, expecting horror or disappointment to paint his face. But Castiel’s gaze is fiercely burning into Dean. He looks furious.

 

After all, it makes sense. Castiel was sent here to meet a devout man, the Righteous Man, and instead he’s stuck with little old Dean, a damned hunter. The only thing Dean did right was dying. He kept Sammy safe. What use would he be, on Earth? Sam must have moved on by now. Dean can’t tumble back into his brother’s life. He’s tired of being a burden.

Will his superiors punish Cas if he doesn't bring back Dean? They could agree on a deal; Cas does his job then kills Dean. He'll just have to make something up, they could make it look like an accident. Or he could explain to his boss that Dean was not Righteous enough. Surely, he'll get it. It would only take one look at him.

 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice is full of righteous fury, and Dean doesn’t remember why he ever doubted Cas was an angel. “You do not belong here. Every soul deserves a second chance. If any High Judge had studied your case, you would have been sent to Heaven.”

 

Surely Cas must be wrong. Dean is the reason his father died, he never went to church, pretty much sinned his whole life…

 

“You dedicated your life to saving other humans. When given the responsibility of your brother’s life, you saved it, time and time again. You took care of him better than your own father.” Castiel is still a few feet away, but Dean feels the pulse of his grace against his ribcage. “Do not take away the goodness of your actions with foul words. You deserve better.”

 

Dean is getting choked up. Castiel’s energy is still beating against his chest, pushing against him. What little breath he had left is stolen by Castiel’s words. How can Cas declare things like that, how can he be so adamant that Dean is a good man?

“You don’t belong here, Dean.” The energy slowly draws back towards Castiel. “I was sent here to drag you out. Your soul isn’t as torn as you’d like to believe. Despite everything you’ve endured, you still love. You remembered Sam and Mary before I gave you back your own name.”

Castiel dares to take a step forward. Dean doesn’t move.

“Come back with me. You will see Sam again.”


	15. Chapter Twelve - Sam

                Instead of sparkling, Dean’s eyes turn cold at the mention of his brother. Castiel had thought that this would be the decisive argument, one that would allow Dean to follow Cas. But apparently, this was not the right thing to say. Humans are very difficult to communicate with. Castiel is used to the bonds linking his grace to his brother’s. He is used to share his thoughts, not to express them in an intricate mix of sounds.

“Sam doesn’t need me anymore. If he has managed to survive all these –” Dean stops, looks back up. “Sam didn’t die… did he?”

Cas accords him a quick smile. “When I first entered this place, Sam Winchester was still alive, tracking vampires in Boston.”

Dean nods once, gathering his earlier words: “Well then, if he has survived all these years without me, he can manage another fifty.”

“Your brother needs you, Dean.” Castiel frowns at Dean’s bowed head. “He's never had to live without you before.”

“No, no, you don’t know anything about us.” Dean shakes his head. “I’ve always needed Sam. He will learn to be without me. Sam only needed me when he was a scared kid. Now he’s grown, almost getting taller than me. ”

Dean doesn’t smile, but the smile is written all over the colors of his soul. He misses Sam.

“You’re more than someone who cares and gives to others in need, Dean.” Dean’s eyes find his. “You are a brother to Sam. Someone to admire, someone to follow, someone to love.”

At the last word, Dean shakes his head. “Love. What do you know about love? Sam and me… We have to stay apart, before one or both of us get killed again. I’ve been selfish. Between living without Sam or him living without me, I chose the easier path.”

“Hell is nothing but easy.” Cas thinks of Anna leaving him, of the countless times he has wanted to find her on Earth before remembering that she would be nothing like the mother he used to love. He takes a step forward. “You don’t realize how much Sam has suffered from his loss. If you had just one more chance, a life spent protecting each other… Would you really push it all away?”

Dean glares at the floor, refusing to answer, but he can’t hide his emotions from Castiel. The purple doubt is a proof that Castiel has managed to convey at least some of his thoughts into words.

 

Cas waits a few seconds, utterly bored. Is it really how the passing of time feels to humans? Time used to be a foreign notion, because Castiel always existed on multiple levels of reality, when his mind wasn’t Speaking with his brothers, he would be watching Heaven, observing Earth, flying, or praying. Castiel has never done _nothing_ in his whole existence. He doesn’t like it.

“You could see how Sam is, you know.”

Dean scoffs. “Right, I am just going to pop out of my grave, take a sneak peak of my brother’s life, and then go back to Hell.”

Castiel stares at Dean. He had expected a better plan from this man. “No… I was offering to use my grace for you to see him when I last had my full powers.”

“Hell is affecting you?”

“The voices of my brother no longer attain my mind.”

Dean nods solemnly, but Castiel doesn’t think that he gets it.

“Do you wish to see Sam?”

 

Dean takes a step forward, hesitates, then breathes “Yes”.

Cas brings two fingers to Dean’s forehead, and gently presses to share his memories. It is much easier than explaining with words how Sam looked, what he did.

 

_Sam is driving the Impala. He hasn’t put an IPod on it yet, because he doesn’t listen to songs. A few weeks ago, he had put it on, just in case Dean would come back as a vengeful spirit. Nothing had changed. The iPod is at the back of the records. Some of the records are ruined and the box is slightly wet and torn. That didn’t bring Dean back, either._

_Sam tries to stop thinking about Dean, but it’s hard. He is everywhere, this is his car, his records, his name carved next to Sam’s. Ruby’s words keep him from burying himself in memories until he stops breathing._

_“Very funny.” Sam doesn’t remember what he just said. Apparently it was a joke. He didn’t know he could still produce one of those. “I’m a fugitive… For you, Sam. I took all of this risk to get back to you, so, yeah, I deserve a damn ‘thank you’.”_

_She’s good at keeping the silence and the memories at bay, but Sam is still tempted to exorcise her right now._

_“Who asked you to save me?” Sam’s voice is flat. Even he can’t recognize it. But it may be the alcohol’s fault._

_“…just trying to help.”_

_Sam turns to her. Hope has returned in his eyes. He doesn’t look at the road anymore. Dying doesn’t matter at this point._

_“Can you help me save Dean?”_

_“No. Nothing I know of is powerful enough to do that.”_

_The hope that had blossomed in his chest withers and dies. There’s only anger and despair left. He knows those quite well._

_His foot grazes the pedal, and the car silently obeys. They’re by the roadside. The engine is the only sound between them._

_“Then I have no use for you.”_

 

The scene shifts and rearranges itself.

 

_Sam is cleaning a gun. His movements are sloppier than usual, he notices it. But the vodka keeps him going._

_Someone knocks at the door. Sam grabs the first gun he finds. Adrenaline is pushing the effects of the alcohol away. He opens the door, and there’s just a girl there. Sam doesn’t budge. It could be any kind of monster._

_She holds up a piece of paper._

_“Proof. This body…”_

 

The voices gets muffled, the shapes fuzzier. It’s difficult to understand anything for a while, then…

 

_“I can’t bring Dean back. But I can get you something else that you want.”_

_Sam can’t think of anything else. There was only thing in his life: Dean. There used to be more, law and his fights with his father, Jessica and other girls he fell in love with, but now there’s only the painful ache his brother left behind._

_“And, uh… what’s that?”_

_“Lilith.”_

_“You want me to…”_

 

The colors go back inside Castiel’s mind. Darkness returns.

Castiel’s hand returns to his side. His fingers graze his palm.


	16. Chapter Thirteen - Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about Latin, so please correct me if it turns out to be gibberish.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter !

What do you mean, you don’t know? Can’t you use your powers to ‘investigate’ or something?”

 

 

Castiel would have rolled his eyes if he had studied how to do it correctly. He merely raises an eyebrow, instead. He knew that Dean hadn’t understood when Cas had confessed that he couldn’t hear his brothers and sisters anymore.

 

 

“Earth and Heaven are not accessible to me from where we stand, Dean.”

 

“I can’t let Sammy get himself killed by Lilith! Why did he have to listen to a demon?”

 

 

Castiel has answers to this particular question, but somehow he senses that Dean doesn’t particularly wishes to get one.

 

Dean starts talking again, loudly. The darkness ripples around them.

 

They are not alone.

 

Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean, while trying to count how many demons are against them. The use of his grace must have attracted them. Castiel’s new Name should have been ‘Fool’!

 

 

There are at least five enemies moving around them, closing in on the pair of them.

 

Castiel's blade falls obediently in his hand.

 

 

Dean is still complaining, but Castiel switches off his hearing. He concentrates all of his attention on the blurry shapes passing on each side. They must be enjoying the fear rolling off of Castiel in waves, because they don't slow down and attack. They keep taunting him.

 

 

"... you even listening to me? I had to get the most dense angel of the lot, I s-"

 

"Be quiet, Dean." Castiel's voice barely lifts, but it still rolls like thunder.

 

 

It's the signal. Everything goes still. Castiel now sees the seven demons standing in a circle around them. They could be statues of rock barely visible in the distance if it weren't for the soft glow in their eyes.

 

The demons move in a small dance around the pair of them. Castiel shivers. A long time ago, he had glimpsed a pack of wolves hunting... Afterwards, only broken bones were left of their prey.

 

Castiel senses Dean fidgeting beside him. Dean is used to start battles without a plan of action; if he had a weapon in his hand he would already have attacked. 

 

The blade in his hand gets heavier. Castiel turns towards the youngest enemy. His missteps and his lack of grace betray him, he is fast but he is not experienced enough to move in a practiced way.

 

The blade is out of his hands in a few minutes. A demon possessing a tattooed woman dodges it easily, the blade keeps on flying and hits its target. The old man the demon was possessing falls to the ground.

 

Cas twitches his hand, and the blade comes back to him in a swift motion. It takes a few seconds, but it’s enough for the demons to strike back.

 

Castiel hears Dean’s scream, but the demon apparently leading the hunt gets between them before Cas can send Dean his weapon. The blade slides the air and the demon diverts it. Blood falls on the rock. The demon licks his hand with a smile.

 

If it’s attempting to distract Castiel, it doesn’t work. It gives the angel a few seconds to aim right. The blade is stopped by the demon’s own weapon.

 

The two blades clash against each other, again and again. Castiel takes a step back, strikes again. He is too slow to guess the parade. Castiel grunts as the air leaves his unused lungs. Pure air from Earth, gone.

Other blows land on his head, his legs, his stomach. Castiel cries out. The rocks scratch his knees.

 

Castiel looks up through dark strands of hair. A glint of silver gives away the aim of the demon’s blade. Castiel’s cheek hits the ground. A lock of hair falls next to him.

 

Castiel gathers his grace and jumps on his feet. He spins and throws his blade forward.

The demon lands on the ground with a thud. Its eyes are rolling back into its head in pain.

 

Castiel turns his head. A demon is approaching Dean, whose face is bloody and contorted in pain. Still, he squares his shoulders upon seeing the enemy coming his way. It is truly remarkable, how brave humans can be.

 

One second, Cas is standing. The next, his chin is colliding with the ground. The taste of blood is awful in his mouth.

He manages to roll over, but the demon's boot keeps on pressing down on his chest.

 

The demon is smirking down at Cas.

 

"We were told that angels were fierce. Apparently our instructors were wrong."

 

"... I heard that" Castiel stops to cough. This human voice is really vulnerable. "demons were their own masters. My superior must have been mistaken."

 

The demon sits heavily on Castiel. His blade runs on Castiel's neck. Castiel lies as still as possible. He doesn’t want the demon to taste his blood too.

 

"What are you implying, angel? Lilith said to keep you alive but my patience is wearing thin."

 

"Why do you obey to her? What has she offered in return?”

 

"More than you could give me." The demon spits the words. Castiel tries not to flinch.

 

"Are you certain that you desire what your queen has planned? Do you wish to bring Humanity to its end? You were part of it, once... "

 

The demon smiles with bloody lips. On its arms, the tattoos roll and shift. They look like a rose tree in autumn. Only dead leaves and thorns adorn the demon’s arms.

 

"What about you little soldiers? Don’t you want the cockroaches to disappear for good?"

 

"We were designed to protect the “cockroaches”, as you put it."

 

The demon gets up then helps Castiel up. It is furrowing its brow, considering Castiel’s vessel.

 

 

"You want to get out of here, right?"

 

"Yes." There’s no need to think about his answer.

 

"I already know that you would kill for it. But would you die for it?"

 

Castiel thinks of Dean, of the risks he has already taken.

 

"Yes."

 

"If I told you that you will have to go against Lilith to succeed, would you change your mind?"

 

"No."

 

She’s the reason why Dean has been tortured for so long, she’s the one who has rejected the possibility of negotiations. If she were to appear right now, Castiel wouldn’t think twice about thrusting his blade in her head.

 

 

The demon nods slowly. Red hair falls on its eyes.

 

"Guys! Stop!"

 

Castiel considers the demon with wide eyes. Is it implying that-

 

"The angel and his human are not to be harmed, now."

 

The five other demons slowly come back to their leader. While they’re discussing their new strategy, Castiel runs to Dean. His legs hurt, and trickles of blood are running down his neck, but no pain seems concerning enough to stop.

Dean is sitting on the rocks. His legs are bending at an odd angle. As Castiel gets closer, the blood tainting his hair and his clothes becomes apparent. Everything about him seems weary.

 

"Oh, Dean..."

 

"’m fine, Cas" Dean must have lost a few teeth in the fight, because his voice comes out muffled.

 

"I should have given you the blade. You weren’t ready to fight several demons bare-handed."

 

"Stop c’unchin’ up your face. Just heal me up an' I’ll be ’s good as new."

 

Castiel nods. The horrible feeling keeps on squeezing his chest, even as he puts his fingers on Dean’s forehead.

 

"No, don’t !"

 

The tattooed demon is walking briskly towards them. Castiel had hoped to escape before it noticed. Having an alliance with a demon can only end in pain.

Castiel hesitates, his grace pulsing against his mind to flow in Dean’s body and mend his broken bones.

 

"If you do that, Castiel, I will have to abandon you to the fate of being captured by other demons, less merciful than me."

 

"Don’t listen to that demon, Cas." Dean’s eyes are dark as they consider the leader of the demons. "‘t only wants to manipulate us."

 

Castiel would have listened to Dean if the demon wasn’t saying exactly what he feared. Each time the angel uses his grace, it attracts all the demons in the vicinity.

 

Castiel’s fingertips graze Dean’s forehead before pulling away.

"Wha’ are you doin’?"

 

"Saving your life."

 

"Funny, I though’ you'd do that by healin’ me!"

 

The demon is now standing beside Castiel.

 

"If you’re complaining so much, caramel, I could patch you up nicely."

 

"Don’t touch Dean."

 

Castiel gets up. If this demon intends to hurt Dean, Castiel is prepared to kill it and every demon standing in his path.

 

"Easy, tiger." The demon chuckles upon seeing their matching frowns. "My name’s Kat, and I’m the one who will save your asses, so a thank you would be nice."

 

Dean squints up at her. "Bite me, princess."

 

Kat rolls her eyes, and looks back at Castiel.

 

"Isaak is staying with us, the others got out when they had the chance. Regarding Leah, well, he didn’t have a say in it."

 

Kat doesn’t insist on the demon Castiel killed. She smiles like her true faces weren’t wearing grief and carries on.

 

"How can we escape Hell if I can’t help Dean when he’s injured?"

 

"There’s another way."

 

"Great ! Let’s do this, whatever ’t is." Dean is looking up at Castiel expectantly, as if Cas was about to perform a magic trick to treat him.

 

"What are you -"

 

Kat cuts Castiel’s sentence short: "De animabus miscentes. It’s a simple spell, really. Then you -"

 

"I don’t have a soul to share."

 

"That’s exactly why we’re doing it, angel. Your grace will flow in his little broken body, and cure him. You’ll also look less... brilliant. You’re like a freakin’ beacon here."

 

"But it could be dangerous, we don’t know-"

 

"Do you have anything else to offer?"

 

Castiel bows his head.

 

"If Dean wishes to do it, then I will agree."

 

"It'd be nice t' know wha’ you're talkin’ abou’."

 

"It’s a spell, to mix souls. Or more accurately, to mix my grace and your soul."

 

"Will it hurt?"

 

"No, Dean."

 

"Then let’s get soul-married, or whatever this is."

 

Castiel wants to argue, but they don’t have a lot of time. Out of all the demons Kat let escape, one of them must have alerted the others of their position. They can’t talk forever, and Cas has no other solution to offer.

 

Castiel remembers this spell; it is used between soulmates, once they get to Heaven. It allows them to have the same bond angels have with their brothers and sisters. They think and feel alike. Castiel has no idea if it will work with his grace, but he has to try, to save Dean.

 

Castiel sits behind Dean, putting his hands on Dean’s shoulders. The ceremony usually requires the couple to embrace each other, but Dean doesn’t seem to be able to stand.

 

"You have to relax, both of you. If you don’t accept this, the spell won’t work."

 

Cas breathes slowly. He doesn’t need to, but it does calm his heart rate. He feels Dean relax against his chest.

 

Kat starts speaking the incantation in a low voice. Castiel doesn’t listen to them; he knows them by heart. He focuses on letting his grace flow in his hands, hovering against Dean’s shoulder.

 

The air leaves his lungs and enters them in waves. His hands are gripping Dean’s shoulders tightly. His arms are brushing against Dean’s necklace. His entire power is now in his hands. They must be burning Dean, but he doesn’t move nor flinch.

 

When Castiel is beginning to tire of reaching out, he feels the first tendrils of _something_ reaching back to him. His grace immediately grips it and doesn’t let go.

 

" _Itaque de foedere formabúntur, ut non confringetur._ "


	17. Chapter Fourteen - Sleep

Castiel only gets a second of the fear, the anger, the surprise, the concern and all the emotions twirling in Dean's head. Then everything gets dull again. Dean collapses to the floor.

Castiel would have worried whether the spell had killed him, except that he can still sense him in the back of his mind. It feels like Dean might be sleeping.

"He could have waited a little longer to get his beauty sleep." Kat is looking down at Dean with contempt.

Castiel bends down and takes Dean in his arms. Most of his injuries are already healed; his human body could carry Dean for a few hours.

The other demon is standing to the side, but as soon as they start walking he appears beside Kat. He doesn't say anything, and Castiel is grateful for the silence. The other demon is a bodyguard to him. And as much as they needed allies, Castiel is not ready to trust demons - much less remember their names.

Kat leads the way, walking in long strides. Castiel tries to keep up, but it gets more and more difficult. Dean gets heavier in his arms with each passing step, but he doesn't look like he will wake up anytime soon. 

If Castiel focuses on the dull emotions at the back of his mind, he can see the shapes of Dean's dreams. He doesn't dare investigate more, in case Dean would mind. He supposes humans are used to their intimacy. 

Castiel slows down until he can feel Isaak's huff on the back of his neck. It makes for a good reminder that he is surrounded by demons, red hair swishing dangerously close to his face and breaths on his neck.

Castiel should stride forward, but every inch of his body wants to stop and curl up against the rock. Grace is gently leaving his body, and it leaves aches and exhaustion in its wake.

His feet are dragging against the rock. Each and every one scrapes against the soles of his feet. Dean is slowly slipping along his arms. Castiel tightens his grip. The last thing he wants is to drop Dean to the ground. His soul has been shattered enough.

After an eternity of endless paths all looking alike, Kat turns around. Castiel looks at her with bleary eyes.

His legs stop moving and they would have folded in on themselves if Castiel hadn't struggled to remain standing.

"Great." Kat flips her hair over her shoulder with a sigh. "Isaak, watch over the boys."

Castiel stares as Kat runs ahead. Has his only ally just left? Calling after her seems like too much effort. It would require opening his mouth.

The other demon - Kat has just said his name, but it's already forgotten - points to the rocks.

If Castiel still had all of his grace, he would have watched over Dean. And if the demon had tried to force him to sleep, he would have held his ground.  
Nothing would have kept him from protecting Dean.

Instead, for the first time in his long existence, Castiel acts without thinking. He doesn't pause to analyze every aspect of his choice, to prepare for his opponent's reactions. He falls to his knees, carefully lays Dean on the ground before collapsing next to him.

His whole body is thrumming with energy. Not in the magical way it hums when grace lits him up from the inside. In the mundane way humans feel exhaustion.

Castiel has studied humans for centuries, but even as a Fledgling he would have known that humans require sleep. It never occurred to him - or to any one of his instructors - that he would need it.

How does one fall asleep? Castiel is tempted to wake Dean up to ask him, but Dean needs time to heal. For once he seems to be sleeping peacefully. A selfish desire to feel the link Cas used to have with his siblings is not reason enough to strip him of well-deserved rest.

Castiel can't keep his eyes shut. His eyes snap open to check on Dean every time sleep threatens to overtake him. Everything could happen to Dean. While Cas sleeps, he could be attacked, he could have a nightmare, he could be taken away from Cas.

How does one stop thinking? Every part of his body apart from his brain is now screaming in exhaustion. Meanwhile, his brain has decided to plot every possible way this could end badly.

With a huff, Castiel finally throws an arm above Dean's shoulders. There. Now if Dean so much as breathes harshly, Castiel will wake up.

Castiel finally closes his eyes. He concentrates on breathing, on pushing the air in and out of his lungs. He lets his head rest against the rocks. He thinks of Kat's red hair, of Anna's. 

For the first time in his existence, Castiel sleeps.


	18. Katarina

As far as she could remember, Katarina has always had black eyes. When she was younger her mother had tried to put make up on her, desperate to add color to her face. But no one noticed the blue lines around such big black eyes. Katarina had mastered the art of staring someone down from a very young age.

It seemed like Katarina had a cold, cold heart matching her eyes, and that nobody would ever marry her.

And then, Christopher walked into her life. He was bright and colorful, and she eyed him up and down from afar, scowling. But then he met her gaze, refused to drop it and declared :

"You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen."

Katarina scoffed, but she was secretly surprised by his bluntness. He couldn't be serious, could he? No-one had ever looked at her and said that. He must have been ironic.

But Chris wasn't lying. He said her eyes looked brown in the right light, and her gaze wasn't cold but mysterious.

Katarina laughed at all this nonsense, but she kept listening. Christopher talked without stopping, never requiring an answer. It suited her just fine. Words didn't come to her easily.

With Chris, Katarina learned to speak up. She left her mother's house and got her first tattoo on the same day. Christopher held her hand as the simple rose was etched into her skin.

After that, tattoos covered her white skin. When the birds on her stomach started growing, Katarina smiled. Her baby would look beautiful.

But the baby died before she could announce it to Christopher. Katarina cried and cried, and after the tears were gone too she felt more hollow than ever. Time passed but time didn't heal the hole in her belly, where the baby used to be, nor the gaping one in her chest

Katarina then tried everything to bring her baby back. She couldn't handle the loss and the sympathetic look on her husband's face. He hadn't lost a child, he hadn't had weeks to picture his life with it. No, Christopher couldn't understand.

A weird girl in front of the tattoo parlor said that she had the power to give Kat her baby back. Her eyes were white and her whole face radiated empathy. Katarina didn't hesitate. She agreed.

She got ten years with Luke. Ten years of happiness before the hounds came barging in...

Katarina scratched the star on her wrist. Once she became a demon, it changed color according to the weather. It reminded her of Chris. He would watch the sky and predict the weather- he was wrong almost every time. Still, she would take his predictions over those of her ludicrous star in a second.

Right now, she doesn't have time for her memories. She's about to meet with her superior. And one does not start a meeting with Lilith unprepared. Especially one demon currently betraying Lilith and hiding two of Hell's most wanted.

Katarina needs to think about her goal. About her Luke, waiting for her. Luke needs a loving mom, even after all these years. Kat is ready to sacrifice anything if it means seeing her family again. Christopher is probably dead - and how relieved she is that she never encountered him in Hell! But her baby, her son, must be on Earth still. 

Katarina would do anything to hold him in her arms again.

Katarina pushes the hair out of her eyes and knocks on the door. It creaks open. Katarina scoffs internally. This door has last been oiled in the eighteenth century, probably, and who knows how long it has been standing there? 

Katarina regains her serious expression once more. Her true form is her armor, the mask behind which she used to conceal her human expressions.  
With Lilith, there will be no point in hiding anything. She will have to destroy every human thought before it even comes to her mind.

"Please, come in."

In Hell, Lilith uses her real body. She was only a little girl when Lucifer corrupted her.

"Sit."

Katarina hastily sits on the floor. Lilith doesn't like to be reminded of the young age of her vessel. 

"My Queen." Katarina inclines her head.

"You seem exhausted, daughter." Lilith cups Katarina's cheek with her hand and holds her head up. "All this running around has ruined your complexion!"

"Yes, my Queen." Katarina lets her head rest against Lilith's hand and closes her eyes. "I only wish it had been useful."

Lilith drops her hand immediately. Katarina had been expecting it, she straightens up gracefully.

"What?"

If Kat looked up, she would see Lilith's crown erupt in white flames. But she keeps her gaze fixed on the floor.

"They killed Leah and they escaped. Thankfully, I managed to harm one of them, enough to slow them down."

Lilith kneels in front of Kat, pushes strands of hair out of her eyes. Her white eyes are sympathetic.

"Oh, hunny! Losing Leah must have been hard for you. She learned everything from you. She is - was almost like your daughter, wasn't she?"

Kat inhales sharply then nods. She hadn't thought of Leah since her death. She had refused to show weakness. A leader does not mourn the loss of fellow soldiers.

Lilith wipes the single tear that had fallen on Kat's cheek.

"Don't you want to get revenge for your child?"

Katarina looks Lilith in the eye for the first time since the beginning of the meeting.

"Appoint me as head of the search. I will find them and bring them to you."

Lilith smiles, looks at the roses on Kat's arms. "My dearest daughter, so full of scars." Lilith sighs. "Fine, fine."

Lilith stands up. Katarina doesn't move. She cannot believe her luck.

"You may go."

Katarina stands. She's barely taken a step before Lilith's voice stops her.

"Remember," Lilith's voice is too deep to be the voice of a child, "if you let them go again, I will not be so merciful. I might find a way to meet your precious son. I'm sure he's in need of some sort of contract..."

Katarina forces the air slowly in and out of her lungs. One does not punch the queen of hell, one does not punch-

"Of course, if you succeed, I will send you to Earth to personally ensure that his soul is still in one piece."

Katarina doesn't turn around. She's too afraid that Lilith will read her expression all too well. It's been too long since she last had hope blooming in her chest.

"Thank you, my Queen."

"Don't thank me yet, Katarina."

Katarina escapes the room in two strides and lets the door close behind her.


	19. Chapter Fifteen - Slow Life

Castiel has seen humanity at its worst and at its best, he knows everything that has come to pass and even some things that haven't already. Anael taught him the mysteries of dreams, and he witnessed the blurs of colors inside men's heads.

And yet somehow, it is a shock to experience a dream. Not just any dream, one created by his own mind. 

He dreams of things he has seen before and were becoming forgotten memories. He dreams of things that could have been; brothers surviving mortal wounds; others coming back from Earth where they had fallen. 

When it stops, Castiel doesn't move. The wind has stopped blowing against his wings, but he wants to keep the sensation in mind a little longer.

For the first time, Castiel's mind is peacefully quiet. Of course, as soon as Cas notices it, other thoughts are formed, destroying the silence.

Dean's feelings start invading Cas's mind before he has opened his eyes. It's hard to distinguish one from the other, in fact, it feels more like one gigantic feeling hovering at the back of his head. Castiel doesn't understand what's going on, except that his throat is closing up and he can't swallow properly. He doesn't need to but he has grown quite accustomed to doing it.

Cas opens his eyes. Dean is standing a few feet away, talking with the demon - what was its name? Isaiah?

Castiel can't hear what they're saying, and he tries to ask Dean by tugging on the bond. He hopes Dean isn't angering one of their only two allies. The last thing they need is disagreements within their group.

The bond trembles and almost breaks. As soon as he feels it, Castiel stops prodding it but Dean is already towering above him.

"Do you know where your wonderful ally has gone, Cas?"

Castiel hadn't noticed Kat's absence. Did she get attacked?

"Well, I-"

"She's gone and left us a rookie for protection."

"I'm sure she-"

"Isaak doesn't even know how to fight !"

"I'm sure she will be back soon-"

"Yes, with an army of demons !"

Dean has taken the habit of cutting Castiel's sentences, and Cas is tired of it. He lets his frustration fall heavily against the bond, without a word.

Dean raises his eyebrow but doesn't answer. It is possibly more infuriating than not any reaction.

After a few moments, Dean goes back to talking to the demon. Castiel glares at his back, but he doesn't turn around.

Castiel keeps on watching as Dean teaches the demon how to fight. 

It is a miracle that it has survived the battle earlier. It is moving slowly and always leaves his neck open. Dean could hit it at any second, and the demon would be on the ground by now. 

Instead, Dean takes his time showing the demon everything he learnt with his father. 

When the demon gets bored of the game, Dean draws the angel blade and the demon draws its own. Dean attacks more and more rapidly until the demon starts throwing his blade every which way, hoping to block the other sword with desperate energy. 

Castiel is by no means surprised when the demon ends up hurting himself with his blade.

Castiel doesn't move to help it, but Dean does. He rips his shirt off and uses the flap as a compress.

Castiel feels more than he hears the silent request from Dean. It echoes in his mind. 

"Are you planning on healing him?"

Castiel sends his disagreement back. He doesn't bother with words, Dean will understand.

The bond gets terribly silent.

For a long time, Castiel doesn't move. His mind is craving the comfort of having a bond, but his brain refuses to admit it. The wind on his wings from his dreams is all too fresh in his memory. Castiel is tired of the eternal darkness. His grace is pacing inside the body it is trapped in, begging Castiel for blue skies.

Castiel watches as the demon's wound heals. Dean smiles when he sees it, and the demon smiles back. They keep on fighting together. The demon is a quick learner; in a few days, he knows enough to be useful in a battle.

At night, Dean and the demon talk about what they should do if Kat doesn't come back. Castiel keeps silent. He knows that she will be back. She promised. Castiel can't bring himself to doubt his only useful ally.

And Cas is right. After an eternity of sitting around, she comes back. For a few seconds, Castiel is sure Anael is coming back to him. Then he recognizes the black eyes and the tattoos.

Castiel gets up. His body protests and hurts, but he manages to stand. Kat stretches her lips in a smile, but it looks more painful than happy.

"Hello, boys! I hope you didn't miss me! We'll just do a quick check of the perimeter and then we're moving."

She breezes past them, ushers the other demon through another corridor and disappears.

Dean slowly turns around. He hasn't looked at Castiel lately, and he seems surprised to see him in such a state. After all, Castiel hasn't used his grace. He has grown a beard and bags under his eyes.

"Did you sleep at all?" Dean frowns. "Well, you'll have time for that later. Let's go."

"What?"

"They're gone to inform their army of where we are. We need to go."

"Why do you trust them so little?"

Dean glares at Castiel. "They're demons. Of course, we shouldn't trust them."

"We don't have a choice, Dean. We don't know the way."

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

Castiel sighs. His head hurts, and it's hard to focus on his words.

"Why did you teach the demon how to fight if you don't trust him?"

"He has a name, you know. And I-" Dean looks down at his feet. "I guess he reminds me of Sam. He's so young, did you know that? He died young and he hasn't even been here long."

"See, you trust him and I trust her."

"Why? How can you say that, when you haven't talked to her more than once?"

"It's called faith. I have no choice but-"

Dean crosses his arms, raises his chin. "I have none. Pity."

"You used to believe in bringing good to this Earth, before." Castiel lets his voice grow soft. "You used to believe in Sam."

"That was before-" Dean stops, exhales. "Before-"

"We're back !" Kat is walking briskly towards them, all smiles. "No enemy around, so let's go!"

The group slowly starts walking. Dean silently wipes his cheek before following.


	20. Chapter Sixteen - The Darkest Way

They are walking at a swift pace, for Dean and Kat seem so focused on leading the way that they keep on increasing the pace. For their part, Castiel and the other demon follow without a word.

The demon seems oddly silent when it has just spent days on end talking to Dean. Castiel wishes he bothered remembering its name, only for the sake of starting some sort of talk between them.

Castiel wonders what poor choices led it to become the abomination it is now. Neither human nor complete evil, it is doomed to this existence for all eternity. Castiel understands why Dean finds this unfair. 

Kat leads them through a maze of corridors, always choosing the darkest one. Castiel is glad of her presence when his gut feeling is proven wrong time and time again. If Castiel had carried on following the light, who knows where they would have ended up?

At long last, they are walking in the right direction. The hope blossoming in Castiel's chest is enough to make the silence and the darkness weigh less on his chest. And despite the ache spreading in his legs, Castiel finds that he could walk like this for days.

After some time the only light left is the one coming from Castiel and his blade. It brings shadows on Kat's face and they soon can't make out where they are. Castiel and the demons feel the humidity dampening their skin, and they step more slowly on soggy ground. Dean surges forward, slips and he would have fallen save for Castiel's hand steadying him.

Dean pulls away without a word.

And so they walk on, with water filling the air, falling on their necks, seeping inside their clothes. Despite the silent bond Castiel feels Dean's shivering.

Flames start blazing around them, shedding light on the muddy water surrounding the rocky ground. Castiel now clearly sees Dean's slumped shoulders, and his staggering every few steps.

"Katarina" The other demon is struggling to keep up with Kat without falling head-first into the mud. "Katarina!"

"What"

"We should rest. There's a shelter over there that should do the trick."

"I'm wondering when the idea of resting entered your brain, Isaak. Was it when you looked at the two fugitives we're helping? Or when you heard that Lilith herself is after us?"

"I, hum, it's just that- Dean needs to lie down."

Hearing his name, Dean's head snaps upwards. The motion makes him lose his footage, before regaining his earlier pace.

"'m fine." He mumbles.

"If he says he's fine." Kat shrugs.

Isaak stares her down before adding quietly: "I soon won't be looking at two fugitives so much as an angel and a corpse."

Katarina sighs, before finally stopping. "Fine. Lead us to that perfect shelter of yours."

Castiel searches the bond for any sign of pain, only for Dean to shove him away. Castiel has never felt a bond so weak. He hopes it will not break, not while they're stuck in this terrible place, with demons for only companions.

Dean grumbles but when they get to the shelter he's the first to collapse to the ground, his face tight and pale.

Castiel looks down at him. Dean's shirt is red with blood. How he wishes he could use his grace to heal him!

"He needs sleep." Katarina squeezes his shoulder before sitting at the edge of the hollow. "Go to sleep, Feathers."

Cas tilts his head. "But Dean-"

"Just sleep already. I'll keep an eye out for you." 

Castiel obeys and lies down next to Dean, not close enough to touch him. He's sure that Dean would be sure to put at least five feet between them if he were still awake.

Castiel closes his eyes, but they keep fluttering open to make sure that Dean is still breathing.

Castiel sighs and turns to face the wall of the cave. He tries to picture long flights but the green of the trees and the blue of the sky are tainted with Dean's blood.

Castiel's vision is cut short by a sudden outburst :

"If you don't shut up, Isaak, I will have no choice but to leave you at the first crossroad."

"Kata-" Isaak's shout is cut short by Katarina's firm tone.

"Let me remind you that I am the one..." There, Katarina visibly calms down and talks more softly. "... Lilith..."

Their voices get softer and soon Castiel can't perceive a sound save Dean's labored breathing. He doesn't dare to turn around, but he's almost sure that the two demons are gone.

Slowly, Cas relaxes against the rock. He keeps on feeling its coolness seeping in his clothes, but the rest is hazy...

Flames leap up in front of his eyes. Cas stumbles backward, afraid to fall in the mud just beneath his feet. He falls on his back, the flames are all around him, underneath him. 

It's getting harder to breathe. Cas never needed to breathe before, but now the smoke is infiltrating his lungs, each desperate breath drowning him a little more.

The fire touches his left wing, and Cas can't see anything anymore. He's not trapped in a vessel anymore, he's alone in the dark, and his whole being is burning, burning, burning... Cas screams with his true Voice. No one to hear it. 

As far as Cas can perceive, there is no echo of another soul. The flames are still piercing his wings, every feather, every part of his grace, but they make no sound, they produce no light. Cas is trapped in the dark, and is he really screaming if there's no one to hear his shouts?

\- Castiel gasps, shots upright. The coolness of the rock underneath him feels real, as is the vessel shuddering around him.  
Still, Castiel remembers how vividly the fire had burned his wings.

"You okay?"

As his feathers turned to ashes, how utterly alone he had felt. No silent presence at the back of his mind, no vessel, no demon... No Dean.

A hand presses down on his shoulder. Cas looks up to a purple soul. Dean.

"What happened?"

Cas frowns, tries to focus on producing words.

"I... I think it was a nightmare."

"It's this place. It's messing with us."

Castiel thinks of the everlasting darkness and shivers against Dean's hand.

"When I was little, I used to have nightmares. Every night, the same one. And every night I woke mom up, and she sang 'Hey Jude' until I fell back asleep." Dean is no longer looking in Cas's eyes. His eyes are trained on the rock behind Cas. "One night, she sang and then she got really quiet and just looked at me. Her eyes were sad." Dean exhales, looks at Cas again. "That night she gave me her ring, as a lucky charm." 

Dean holds it in his palm. It looks like any other ring. It doesn't glitter, and yet Dean stares at it like it holds Mary's very soul.

"Here. Take it."

"I couldn't -"

Cas doesn't have the time to finish his protest, because Dean has already slipped the ring on his finger.

It feels cold, a soft breath after the heat of the flames. Looking at it, Cas understands why it is so precious to Dean. It is the first gift he received.

Cas looks up at Dean. He will never tire of looking into his soul and seeing new shades there.

"Will you teach me how to sing?"

Dean's eyes soften when he starts to sing. First, a slow hum and Cas can see the little boy Dean used to be. Then Dean sings the beginning of the song with his deep voice, and the vision is gone.

Dean sings on and on until Cas sings along with a croaky voice. It sounds like it hasn't been used for a long time.

In the middle of the chorus, Dean stops. Without Dean's voice to cover his own, the song sounds awful. Castiel's voice slowly fades away; down to a whisper, then silence.

"Why are you doing all this, Cas? I'm the bad guy, remember?"

"No, you're not," Cas answers without pause, without searching for his words.

Dean stares at Cas and seems about to disagree, but Cas glares at him and then, slowly, quietly, Dean starts to smile.

This time, when Cas reaches out, Dean opens the bond.


	21. Chapter Seventeen - Silhouettes

This time, Dean neither collapses nor cuts the bond. The presence at the back of Castiel's mind stays.  
As Castiel looks at Dean, all the shades of his soul start making sense. He stares at the colors and each of them sounds different from the others.

"Hey, stop it."

Castiel blinks. He sees Dean's face behind the various colors. His cheeks are tainted pink.

"What?"

"Don't stare at me like that, you -" Dean cuts himself off, frowning. "Where are Isaak and your new bestie?"

"Katarina is far from-" Even without Dean's complaint in his mind, Castiel would have stopped under the force of Dean's glare. "I don't know. They were arguing earlier."

"Really? I bet Kat wants to sell us to Lilith, and Isaak disagrees."

Castiel immediately wants to prove Dean wrong, if only because he trusts Katarina. Then he remembers her words, earlier, and he doubts he will be very convincing. He never had instinct, before. Perhaps he shouldn't have listened to it.

"I was waiting for you to contradict me, man. That's what you always do."

Castiel tilts his head to the side. "Why did you call me 'man', when you know I'm an angel of the Lord?"

Dean shakes his head, laughing. Castiel smiles. Even though he doesn't know what he said to make Dean laugh, he is glad for it anyway. It is a rare sound, these days.

"Come on Cas, let's go after them. They can't have gone too far."

Dean stands up for a few seconds before grunting and falling to his knees.

"Dean?" 

Castiel searches the bond for injuries, and he is immediately met by waves after waves of pain. He is not the one with wounds and yet, he suffers.

"Dean !"

Cas lays Dean on the floor. His shirt is red with blood. Cas opens it, revealing the open wound.

Dean is bleeding out.

"Yeah, not pretty huh?"

"How - when -" Castiel can't form any more words. His lips move soundlessly.

"During our last battle. Your grace healed it a bit, but it reopened."

Cas looks at the blood flowing steadily. He doesn't know what to do, his teachers never prepared them in case they couldn't use their powers.   
Dean tied a compress against the demon's wound, once. Maybe Castiel should try that, even though it doesn't look promising.

Castiel's fingers are twitching against his thigh. He can feel the grace in him, begging to reach out and heal Dean. He can't lose Dean, not now.

Castiel will fight every demon in this infernal place if it means saving Dean.

Castiel approaches his fingers to Dean's shoulder. He holds his breath, hoping that -

"How are my favorite boys doing?" 

Katarina is entering cheerfully the cavern, oblivious to Dean's pain. The other demon is silently following her. Its true faces are contorted in anger behind its emotionless human face.

"Don't you see that Dean needs to rest?"

"All I see is a damaged soul, and that won't change overnight." Katarina winks at Castiel.

Castiel feels the echo of her words inside Dean's mind, in a dark, dark place. There is a void there, full of hateful words and despair. Castiel tries to fight it, but what is there to fight against where there's nothing?

It takes a lot of deep breaths for Cas to convince himself that killing - or even hurting - the only demon who can lead them out is, in fact, a bad idea.

Katarina must notice the way Castiel is staring fixedly at her, and so she exclaims : 

"If it means that much to you, you can go find water to clear the wound."

Castiel envisions leaving an injured Dean with Katarina and quickly decides against it.

"I will need your help. I can't use my powers here."

Katarina sighs but she follows Cas out. At least Cas doesn't believe the other demon is capable of killing Dean.

Outside, the air is suffocating. Castiel is glad that he doesn't need to breathe to survive. The air is so thick it feels like an effort just walking through it.

Thankfully the muddy water is close by. They kneel by it.

Katarina produces a flask from one of the pockets on her boots. She starts filling it with brown water.

Castiel stares at the flask. If Dean isn't dead when they get to him, giving this water will finish him off.

"You can't possibly -"

"Relax, cherub. I've got a magic trick up my sleeve."

Castiel watches as Katarina shakes the flask. Something clinks inside it. A rosary.

Castiel kneels by the muddy water, his lungs filled with moist air, and as he stares at the rosary shining in the clear water, he regains his faith. It feels like somehow, even in this place of despair, his Father is there to guide him.

"You ready to go, chuckles? Got a weird smile on your face."

Cas touches his lips. There is a smile there and he intends to keep it. He is an angel of the Lord; he will save Dean.

When they get there, Isaak and Dean are talking. Castiel exhales in a huff. Dean is alive. Castiel would have felt the bond break, but with Dean asleep, it was hard to tell.

"Why are you nice to me, Dean?"

"Believe me or not, but I think you're a good kid." 

"Even though I'm a demon?"

"When I look at you, I don't see no demon."

Dean spots Castiel and Katarina hovering on the entrance of the cave. He smiles but all Castiel can focus on is his pale skin.

Cas takes the flask from Katarina's hands. Slowly he makes Dean drink.

"Can we go now?" Katarina still uses her imperious tone, but she looks nervous.

"I understand your worry but-" Cas glares at her. "Dean is clearly not well enough to walk."

"What are you talking about, Cas? I'm fine!"

It would have been more believable if Dean wasn't currently lying in a pool of his own blood. Castiel raises an eyebrow at Dean, who huffs.

"Until Dean is healed, we will not move."

"Can't you see that demons are tracking us as we speak? We are losing time !"

"If their hounds find us, I will be happy to kill them or die trying. Won't you?"

There are a few beats of silence. Katarina's gaze flickers on the rocks.

Finally, she nods.

"Let's stay here. Who knows, maybe this humidity will do wonders to our skin."


End file.
